


Wizards of Winterhold, Vol. I: Magnus' Eye

by Andauril



Series: Tales of a Dunmer Refugee [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: College of Winterhold - Freeform, College of Winterhold Questline, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7188083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andauril/pseuds/Andauril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scholar Irith Lleryn wished to discover something of importance in Saarthal instead of herding apprentices. Once more the saying rings true: Be careful what you wish for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Digging Deeper

**Sun’s Dusk, 4E 201**

 

It was a surprisingly kind day. The relentless and chilling snowfall that so often cloaked the sad remains of the once great and flourishing city of Winterhold and the entire College in white had subsided into a soft drizzle, with only some stray flocks drifting down from the sky. 

It was not warm, but Irith Lleryn had learned that to expect warmth in Winterhold was like hoping for snowfall in Elsweyr, or for the ashlands of Vvardenfell to become habitable again: A lost cause. 

Some might have called her insane, to be walking on the college’s battlements at this early hour instead of seeking shelter inside the warm and cozy halls of the College, but she appreciated the silence that always welcomed her up here. In all her time at the College, she had never met someone else up this early at the battlements. 

Which left them to her and her musings, and allowed her to enjoy the fabulous view on the sea of ghosts all for herself. Not even Adri would bother her up here, so she could truly be alone and free from all responsibilities. 

It was a rare enough occurrence, and one she savoured even more for it. 

Solstheim lay somewhere beyond the horizon, far off the shore to the north, farer than even one the College’s telescopes could see. Still, despite this knowledge, she often found herself staring north. Wondering how Saril was faring, if the assassin’s of the Morag Tong were still looking for her, or if they had given up on it. 

The thoughts were all in vain, though. Even if it was safe for her to return to Ravenrock, her place was now somewhere else. If it even had been in Raven Rock in the first place … 

Irith took a deep breath of the cold air and drove these thoughts from her mind. 

There were more important matters she needed to focus on now. 

Turning her gaze from the horizon, she followed the balustrade and the wide ring it described until she overlooked no longer the grey and icy sea, but the snow-covered mountains and hills of Winterhold Hold. Invisible from here, covered in ice and snow, lay the ancient ruins of Saarthal. 

Tomorrow, Tolfdir would lead an expedition of students to the ancient Nordic city, and Irith had been tasked to accompany them and offer help and advice where it was needed. 

If he had asked for her expertise, she would have been pleased to accompany the students, but as far as she had understood, she would be serving as a better guide for the apprentice’s instead of being treated like a scholar. 

It was insulting, but she had kept the bitter bile of disappointment to herself. It was not what she had hoped for, but still better than to be left out completely. So she had agreed.  

With some luck, she might even end up making an important discovery, even though she had only been tasked with helping the students. But it was a possibility, and Irith was no one to turn one down when it offered herself to her. No matter if her pride wanted to forbid it or not. 

But still, when she turned away from the mountains and followed the balustrade back to the sky reaching tower that held the Arcanaeum, the Arch-Mage’s chambers and the Hall of Elements within, she wondered if it would not have been the better decision to choose someone else for this task. 

*

The good weather didn’t last for long. 

Thick clouds covered the sky while the small caravan of four apprentices and two wizards dragged themselves through snowbanks that gave in underneath their feet. Big, white flakes were drifting down, and sky and ground seemed to blend with each other. 

Irith trailed behind the apprentices as the last in line. It was her responsibility to assure there would be no danger attacking the students from behind. It was nigh impossible to discern any details in her surroundings, but a spell revealed the position of any lifeforms found nearby. Their flickering signatures betrayed the presence of some small animals, hiding underneath the snow, but nothing bigger than a head. 

The students had fallen silent some time ago. Not even J’zargo spoke a single word, and for once his head was kept low against the relentless snowfall. Onmund had the least difficulties keeping up with Tolfdir’s still energetic pace, but even he seemed more grim than before. Brelyna Maryon had wrapped herself into her cloak and pulled her hood deep into her face. Of all the students, Aurelia LaCroix seemed to have the most problems keeping up. With every step she sunk deep into the snow, and stumbled more than the others. 

The hillslope fell down ahead of them. Irith turned around, and let her gaze wander across the hillside behind, but only spotted the flickering signatures of two rabbits cowering underneath the snow.  

“Watch it!” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t …” 

“Maybe then you should’ve stayed behind!”

Irith whirled around. “Hey!” 

Aurelia LaCroix - whose robes and cloak were covered in more snow than mere moments ago - and J’zargo - with his whiskers spread in angered agitation - both looked up and fell silent momentarily. 

“Do you have a problem, any of you?” 

“J’zargo doesn’t have a problem, but she is slowing us down!” The Khajiit pointed at LaCroix. 

Irith sighed. “If you think so, maybe you would like to go ahead to Tolfdir and Onmund. LaCroix, you may stay with me.” 

J’zargo seemed to be satisfied enough with that solution: He strode without any more words ahead, down the hillslope. LaCroix didn’t protest. She trailed along Irith’s side, gaze kept downwards and focused on her boots that kept sinking deep into the snow. 

Ahead of them, dark silhouettes on the bottom of the valley seemed to stretch out in the snowfall. Tolfdir had slowed down his pace, and rose a hand to wave the rest of them closer, until they all flocked around him. Slowly, more of the structure ahead emerged from the white. 

The dark silhouettes turned out to be wooden walkways and stairs, leading down to the entrance of an old ruin, half buried in snow and rubble. 

“Careful on the wood!”, warned Tolfdir, descending down the stairs to the entrance. “Come, come! We can warm our bones once we’re inside!” 

They gathered around Tolfdir at the doorway, all students looking more or less frozen through. All of them looked somewhat sceptical if they would ever be warm again, a sentiment Irith could understand. She would’ve lied had she claimed she felt anywhere near warm herself.  

“Now, are we ready to proceed?” 

He earned a number of nods and murmured approvals, some of them more enthusiastic than others. 

“All right! Please stay close to me or Scholar Lleryn while we’re inside! It should be safe, but it’s always better to be cautious!”

Tolfdir protruded an old key from his robes and turned it inside the lock, and the door opened with a bone-gnawing creak, revealing a dark antechamber behind. Irith raised a hand and summoned a candlelight into existence, illuminating the stone walls and the cracked floor. 

Tolfdir earned some sighs and a disapproving frown from Onmund, who didn’t seem to be happy about being here, or about what he was asked to do. Brelyna Maryon and J’zargo strolled around the chamber, curiously observing the details revealed by Irith’s candlelight. 

Irith took the time to conjure a small flame in her palms, relishing in the warmth it send through her shivering body. If she found the time, it might be futile to look into an enchantment or potion that could keep her warm where clothes alone could not. 

They followed Tolfdir deeper into the ruin, through the small antechamber and into a much larger one. Stone columns stretched high and carried the ceiling, and around them, wooden walkways snaked. Some of them had been erected recently, while others looked ancient. The air was humid, and surprisingly warm, and a number of summoned magelights illuminated old, crumbling stone pillars and walls, covered with crouching green moss and fungi. 

“As some may know, Saarthal was one of the earliest Nord settlements in Skyrim”, Tolfdir said while leading the students down the walkways and deeper into the chamber. “It was also the largest. Sacked by the elves in the infamous Night of Tears, not much is known about what happened to Saarthal. This is an exciting opportunity for us. To be able to study such an early civilization, and the magics they used …”

Tolfdir sounded decidedly more fascinated and enthusiastic than some of the students looked. Especially Onmund looked less and less happy the deeper they went into the chamber, his eyes narrowed in disapproval and lips pursed into a thin line. 

Eventually, the old wizard stopped at the bottom of the chamber, and the apprentices gathered around him. 

“So, does anyone of you have any questions before we proceed?” 

“Yes. What exactly is it that’s so important about Saarthal?” The question came from LaCroix. 

Tolfdir frowned slightly. “Well, we’re particularly interested in the prevalence of magical seals placed on the tombs here. It’s rather unlike anything we’ve encountered.” 

Onmund looked even unhappier at that than moments before, muttering to himself that his ancestors should be allowed to rest in peace. He withdrew a few steps from the group, seemingly eager to leave the place sooner rather than later. 

“Any more questions?”, Tolfdir asked.

“What is that we’re looking for?”, LaCroix asked promptly, glancing around in the chamber with no small amount of interest. 

Tolfdir’s showed her a fond smile while he answered. “Anything! Anything at all might be of interest. That’s why I adore this location. We have no idea what we’re going to find.” He nodded, falling silent for a moment … “Ah, well, let’s think about it … Ah yes, Aurelia, my dear, why don’t you see if you can’t assist Arniel Gane? He’s working on cataloguing our finds. I expect he’d appreciate some help in locating any additional magical artefact in the ruins. Any enchanted items will do; the usefulness of the enchantment is irrelevant. If you find anything, the class can look it over. Hm …” He paused for a moment, before turning to Brelyna Maryon. “Brelyna, why don’t you search for warding magics. Anything designed to keep people out. Don’t interact with them, just identify them. Hm … Onmund, please search that area over there.” Tolfdir pointed at a dark opening in the wall that seemed to lead deeper into the ruin. “See if you notice any … residual energies. Alive or undead. And J’zargo … hm … Ah! Why don’t you verify that we’re first ones here? Look for any amount of tampering with the tombs.” 

The group of students split up, some of them looking more, some less happy with the tasks they’d been given. Especially J’zargo didn’t look very satisfied. He send gazes like daggers over to LaCroix, his whiskers twitching in anger. 

“She isn’t even better than J’zargo!”, he hissed while he disappeared in another dark doorway. “She’s just a coward like him, that’s why he likes her better.”

Irith made a mental note to keep an eye on these two. As it seemed, the accident from before was only a symptom for something more serious. She knew neither J’zargo nor LaCroix very well, but from what she’d heard about the Khajiit, he was very competitive and did not like it when others exceeded him. 

“Ah, well, Irith … Isn’t this exciting? All these young studious minds … Can you remember when you’ve been one of them?” Tolfdir looked over to her, his smile wide with excitement. “Why don’t you see if any of them needs your help?”

Irith bit back the comment that was dwelling on her tongue and nodded. It looked just like what she had feared was becoming truth: She would spend the entire time looking after students instead of studying herself. A waste of time, if she was being asked … 

It was a miracle how anyone seemed to assume that she liked playing the teacher only because she had cared for her younger sister for years. There were at least a hundred things she would have rather done with her time … This ruin could’ve been an excellent opportunity to learn, but she would be playing nursemaid instead. 

What joy …  

She followed the students into the dark opening, igniting a magelight in her palm to have it hover beside her while she descended deeper into the ruin. If she had had the time, she would have stopped to observe her surroundings closer, but she had been given other tasks. 

She passed by Onmund, who looked a little bit appeased by the fact that he hadn’t been tasked with tampering with any of the graves, but he didn’t seem to need any help. So she left him to his task. 

Arniel Gane set on a table in an alcove, glancing down upon a ring, and muttered to himself about the students messing with his work and ruining everything. Irith thought it better to not interrupt him. If someone had interrupted her during her work, she would have been tempted to fry them alive … 

“Excuse me?” A soft spoken voice to her side had Irith whirl around. “I … uh … I might need some help.”

LaCroix stood in the opening of yet another hallway.

Irith suppressed a sigh. Well, that was the reason she was here, was it not? To offer her help to any students who might find themselves in need of it. 

“What is it?”

“I found something, but it’s in quite a … peculiar position and I don’t dare to touch it.” 

“Show it to me.” 

LaCroix’ nodded and turned around, raising a hand, signaling Irith to follow. She lead her into the corridor, to a rather unordinary looking piece of wall - and alcove, as it seemed, carved and cut into it -, and within it … Irith did not need to ask what the thing was that LaCroix had discovered. 

The artefact, an amulet, seemed to be embedded into the wall, as though half-molten with it. It looked rather ancient, the engravings faded with age, and withered. 

“Can you free it from the wall?”, LaCroix asked. 

Irith frowned at her. “I would think so. It shouldn’t be too difficult …” The more interesting question was, in any case, why the amulet was in this position in the first place. It did not look as though it had ended up there by mere accident. 

She let a finger slid underneath it and carefully, but not without some effort, freed it from the wall. It fell heavy into her palms, the ancient metal scraping cold against her skin. 

“Oh no.” 

LaCroix’ whispered comment had Irith turn around, only to realize what the apprentice had been referring to: Spiked metal bars had risen from the ground, and now blocked the way forward, trapping them in place. 

Irith glanced down at the amulet in her palm. Obviously she had triggered some kind of trap when she had freed the amulet from the wall. Excellent … 

“You wouldn’t see any way to lower those bars, would you?” Irith run her fingers across the wall and across the part where the amulet had been stuck mere moments ago, feeling for a hidden switch. But there was none … 

“No …” LaCroix shook her head. She pulled her bottom lip between her front teeth. “What about the amulet? There’s some kind of connection, isn’t there?”

“Obviously …” Irith turned it between her fingers, before letting it slide over her head. 

The wall before her seemed to vibrate, a deep hum that she both could feel and hear, as though it was resonating with the amulet around her neck. 

She wondered what response her magic would produce, if the one to wearing the amulet already was so obvious. 

“Step back. I don’t know what will happen”, she ordered LaCroix, calling upon her magicka to summon a small flame into her palm. 

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for what might happen, and carefully directed a stream of fire onto the wall section before her. 

The response was immediate: The wall started to crumble, and collapsed in itself. Behind, a dark passageway opened, leading deeper into parts of the ruin yet undiscovered. 

Irith glanced about her shoulder. The bars that had blocked their way out were gone.

She sighed. Her only task here was too help, and that she had done. But Arniel Gane and Tolfdir were nowhere to be seen, and she would hate to leave this discovery unattended. 

“What now?” 

Irith peered through the dark hole in front of her and made a decision. “I’m going to investigate. You may return to Tolfdir and tell him what we’ve found …”

“Thanks, but no.” LaCroix dared a peek into the dark opening. “I won’t stay behind if I was the one who found the amulet.”

“It could be dangerous.” 

LaCroix’ frowned. “And I can take care of myself.”

Irith narrowed her eyes. She had not expected LaCroix’ to disobey her. The young breton had made a pretty diligent impression up until now. “Very well. But try not to be an hindrance.”

LaCroix’ nodded. “I won’t get in your way.” 

“Good.” She braced herself, and stepped into the dark opening. The passageway lead onwards, and Irith ignited a candlelight beside her to illuminate the corridor ahead. 

This part of the ruin looked untouched, the air still and dry, itching in her nose and the back of her throat. Her steps and those of LaCroix’ behind her caused almost no echo. 

After some more steps, the passageway opened into a nearly circular burial chamber, with ancient coffins framing the walls and an altar standing in its centre.

As Irith approached the middle of the chamber, looking around for a way that would lead them deeper into Saarthal, the air around her suddenly seemed to glimmer. The walls, the ground, the coffins, all suddenly were drained of all colour, taking a blueish shade of grey. 

LaCroix had suddenly stopped and stood now, unmoving, her eyes staring into the void, blank. 

Irith extended a hand, touched her by the shoulder, but the younger mage didn’t react. She not even seemed to breath, her chest still and tranquil. 

_ “Hold, mage, and listen well…”  _ Irith whirled around. In the middle of the chamber, by the altar, a ghostly figure in the shape of a robed man had appeared. Before she could reply anything, they spoke again. “ _ Know that you have set in motion a chain of events that cannot be stopped. Judgment has not been passed, as you had no way of knowing. Judgment will be passed on your actions to come, and how you deal with the dangers ahead of you. This warning is passed to you because the Psijic Order believes in you. You, mage, and you alone, have the potential to prevent disaster. Take great care, and know that the Order is watching.”  _

The apparition faded away, disappeared as suddenly as it had come, and with it, the world around her seemed to resume its normal pace. Colour and movement returned. LaCroix blinked, stumbling a step forward before she was able to catch herself. 

“What … what just happened?” She stared up at Irith, puzzled. “I feel … odd.”

Irith looked over to the altar. If only she knew. She was still trying to process what just had happened. “I’m not sure”, she confessed. “Someone appeared to me … a ghost, or a projection … and warned me of danger ahead. And that the Psijic Order would be watching.”

It didn’t make much sense, if at all. What interest could the Psijic Order take in her, and what interest did they have in this ruins? There was not a clue in any written accords that the Order had any ties to this place. 

“The Psijic Order? They’ve disappeared over a century ago. Why would they show themselves now?” LaCroix looked even more confused than before. “That’s … that didn’t happen in decades.”

“In the light of what just happened, you should return to the others.”

LaCroix shook her head. “I’ve come this far. I’m not turning back …” 

She never got the chance to finish what she was going to say: Suddenly, one of the coffins in front of them burst open. 

The draugr within charged ahead, brandishing an ancient rusted sword. 

Irith called upon Oblivion, a blade materialising in her waiting left, just in time to block the draugr’s vicious first strike.

A jolt of lightning struck the creature from behind, and it jerked, withered limbs twitching, head thrown back in an ear-splitting shriek. 

Irith slashed it across the chest, the bound blade cutting through old bones and dried dead flesh like butter, and the draugr fell to the ground where it stayed, unmoving. 

Irith looked up from the fallen undead. The very same coffin that had held the draugr within mere moments ago now revealed another passageway behind, as though the undead creature had been guarding it. Behind, another dark corridor stretched out, and lost itself in darkness. 

“If you’re still adamant about following me”, Irith said, turning to LaCroix. “It looks like that is our way to go.” 

“I’m ready.” LaCroix had pulled her shoulders up, though it helped little in letting the petite Breton look taller. “Lead the way.” 

Irith nodded, resigning herself to the fact that there was nothing she could do about the apprentices company, and stepped into the passageway. The Psijic’s warning still rang in her ears, but curiosity drove her ahead. 

*

“Another of those?” LaCroix glared at the engraved stone pillar in front of her, violently rubbing her temples. “Whoever erected them was really eager to keep strangers out.” 

Irith did not comment on that, but she was inclined to agree. This was the second pillar puzzle they had encountered - among numerous draugr, all more than eager to end her and LaCroix’ life both. It would seem that everything they had encountered in this part of the ruin, beginning with the strange amulet that she had freed from the wall, was yet another safeguard to keep them away. 

She let her gaze wander across the pillars, and to the engravings in the wall above them. The solution looked easy enough, but she would be direly surprised if it really was as obvious as it seemed. 

“We’re not going to open the portcullis by just standing here”, she said, frowning. “Try to rotate the first one to my left.”

LaCroix nodded, and pressed her palms against said pillar, turning it until the symbol matched the one engraved in the wall above. 

“The one to my right, the first one. Try to make them match the symbols.” 

LaCroix was smart enough not to protest. She turned to the pillar and rotated it … and all the other pillars around them did the same. 

Irith frowned. It seemed like the pillars were mechanically interconnected, and rotating them would only erase any progress they had made in solving the riddle. But the ancient nords would not have build it here if there was no solution - the lever in the middle of the room was proof of it. 

“Rotate the others”, she ordered LaCroix. “It doesn’t matter how far. I only need to see if there is a pattern behind it.”

The apprentice huffed, but did as she had been asked. 

“I think there’s a specific order in which we have to rotate the pillars”, she said finally, after LaCroix had returned to her side. “Start with the one to my left. Rotate it once.”

LaCroix sighed, but she did it. As expected, every other pillar turned, mismatching the symbols in the wall above them yet again. 

Before Irith could say anything, LaCroix had approached the second pillar to the left, and rotated it with some effort, not once, but twice. Irith frowned. Maybe the apprentice wasn’t someone she would have chosen to take with her into the ruin, but she surely was no lost cause. 

If she wanted to put her mind to use, who was Irith to try and stop her? She was curious to see whether or not the young mage would come to the same solution as she had. 

LaCroix glanced around, her gaze ghosting across the other pillars, before she turned to the second one to the right and rotated it once. About the last step, she didn’t even seem to think. She went straight to the last pillar, the first on to the right, and rotated it until it showed the right symbol. 

Irith looked around. All the symbols seemed to match. 

She reached for the lever and pulled it towards her. The portcullis slid upwards, and disappeared into the doorway, opening the path ahead. 

A slight tingle crawled across Irith’s skin as she set foot into the hallway, and with every step, it grew stronger. The fine hairs at her neck began to rise. She could almost taste it in the air, a wave of energy that swept across her: magicka, raw and untamed.  

She descended down a flight of stairs. Blue light illuminated the steps, a glowing warning of what lay ahead. Something told her that she had almost reached the very thing the Psijic monk had warned her about. 

Even before she had reached the chamber, it came into view. 

A giant glowing blue orb, that hovered in the midst of the large chamber ahead, surrounded by a hypnotising blue aura. 

“Eight Divines”, LaCroix’ voice was but a whisper. “What kind of artefact is that?”

Irith shook her head. “I’ve never seen …” 

She never got to finish her sentence. Suddenly, something rose from the throne at the bottom of the chamber. Unholy glowing blue eyes swept around, and although it was impossible, seemed to narrow at the sight of the two mages. Shrieking, the ancient draugr raced up the stairs. 

Irith called upon her magicka and threw a bolt of lightning at him. The creature didn’t even falter. Unperturbed, it flang its axe at her. Irith jumped out of its way - the axe’s blade scraped across the side of her robe. She hastily retreated, reaching into Oblivion to call a blade into her outstretched right. 

A stream of fire cloaked the draugr from behind, but all it did was whirl around, shrieking at the top of long since mummified lungs to swing its axe for LaCroix. The tiny Breton just so managed to jump out of the way … 

“Nothing seems to affect it!” LaCroix’ eyes were wide in fear. 

“Try to keep it busy!” Irith’s gaze flew about the chamber, fixing at the floating orb in its middle. An idea occurred to her … “I will try to draw something of its power!” 

When she concentrated, she could almost see the stream of magic that seemed to connect the undead with the glowing blue aura around the orb. If she could break through … 

“Why me?” LaCroix almost shrieked. Her free hand pulled the long quarterstaff from her back, just in time to block the next vicious strike. 

Irith didn’t answer. There was no time. If they couldn’t harm it, they would quickly become overpowered. None of them was able to hold themselves against a mighty invincible draugr for ever. 

She turned heel and raced the flight of stairs down to the bottom of the hall, calling upon her magicka. Slithering, she came to a halt in front of the orb. She threw at him every ounce of magicka left inside her, and for a dreadful moment, it seemed as though nothing she could do would even so much as make it flicker. 

Then, suddenly, the glowing aura collapsed into itself. Irith was thrown back. Black dots danced before her eyes. Just so she managed to catch herself and regain balance. A booming headache had sparked behind her temples. She felt tired in a way she never had felt before - a deep, hollow tiredness, sucking at the very foundations of her soul. 

So that was how it felt like if one’s magicka was completely depleted. Irith rubbed at her brow. Not a feeling she’d like to experience again. 

“Scholar Lleryn? Are you alright? You look quite pale.” 

Irith squared her shoulders and turned towards LaCroix, who - in the time it had taken her to gather herself - had approached the orb. 

“I am fine.” Irith shook her head, slowly, to keep the chamber from spinning around her. 

“What do we do know with that orb?” 

“I have no idea what exactly it is, only that is … extraordinary”, Irith confessed. “I think it is best to bring it to the College for closer study and observation. Inform the Archmage about what we’ve found, and send Tolfdir here while you’re on your way out. I don’t dare leave this unattended.” Also, some moments of rest would do her good. 

LaCroix nodded, for once not protesting about being sent back. 

Irith waited until she had left the chamber through a newly opened back door before she set down on the old throne and closed her eyes. Who would have known that they would find something like this deep under Saarthal?

Even without looking at it, she could feel the artefacts raw power. 

And it send shivers down her spine, while the Psijic’s warning kept echoing in her head. 


	2. Research

**First Seed, 4E 202**

 

It was eerily quiet this early in the morning. Only Onmund’s loud snoring betrayed that the Hall of Attainment wasn’t deserted, and she not the only living being here. 

Aurelia looked about her shoulder before she pulled the door to the courtyard open and slipped outside. A cold shock of air hit her in the face like the icy breath of a snow giant, and she quickly pulled her cloak tighter around her frame. 

Even after 4 years, she still had not become used to the chilling cold so far north. How the Nords could even stand it at all was beyond her. 

She kept her head low while she crossed the courtyard and strode over to the large doors that lead into the Hall of Elements. Her breath condensed into small puffs of fog in front of her face. It seemed impossible that elsewhere in Skyrim and Cyrodiil, winter had already given in to the mild warmth of spring.  

But then, the only two seasons Winterhold seemed to know were winter and dire winter … 

Aurelia pushed the door to the Hall of Elements open and slipped inside. She sighed in relief when the warmth welcomed and enveloped her, slowly creeping back into her shivering limbs. 

There was no one in the Hall of Elements other than herself, which meant she would have some precious moments alone with the orb. It floated in the centre of the chamber, above the focus point, and illuminated its immediate surroundings with a blue glow. 

Even after five months, the interest in the artefact had hardly died. The dire winter months had kept every and all efforts to acquire new books who might have helped them in uncovering the truth about the orb at bay. Not that it had stopped anyone from observing and experimenting on it. 

Aurelia braced herself and cast a ward, fueling it with a small rivulet of magicka while she approached the orb. The closer she got, the more tangible became the aura of raw magical energy it was giving off. She could almost taste it on the tip of her tongue. 

She ignited a small spark in her palm, carefully directing it towards the orb. The giant sphere absorbed it without any reaction, still floating undisturbed in the middle of the hall. 

This would lead to nothing. She doubted even a true maelstrom of magic would even so much as invoke a reaction from the orb. As good as every member of the College had tried to fuel it with magic, or to draw magic from it, without any success. 

Aurelia sighed. If this had been a dwemer artefact, she was sure she would have long since figured out what it was. But it was a completely unknown entity, and all she could say about it - that everyone could say about it! - was that could say nothing about it. 

She stepped back from the orb and turned around, to head to stairs that led upwards to the Arcanaeum. Somehow she doubted it, but maybe Urag gro-Shub had turned up a new book that might help them to learn more about the artefact. And if not … 

There were still other studies she needed to focus on. 

Urag was already - or still? - awake when she entered the Arcanaeum. He raised a bushy eyebrow at her as she approached him, and rose from his chair. 

“Scholar Lleryn sent you?” 

Auralia blinked at him, baffled. She had not spoken to the Dunmer in days. 

“You were the one with her when she discovered that orb, weren’t you?”, the old Orc inquired when she didn’t give an answer. 

“Yes …”

“You can tell her the books she asked for have arrived. Now! She was very clear about that, so you better hurry.”

“She didn’t sent me. I’m not her …”

“And I don’t care what you are and what not. When a higher ranked wizard gives you an order, you oblige.” Urag crossed his arms in front of his chest. “That  _ was  _ an order.” 

Aurelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It was not worth causing a ruckus. She would be forbidden to enter the Arcanaeum for days, maybe weeks, if she threw a tantrum, and that was something she didn’t want to risk. It was better she just left and did as she had been ordered. 

She turned around and headed for the stairs, wistfully glancing over to the books that stood lined up in shelves along the walls and around the tables. Instead of returning to the Hall of Elements, she headed for the door to the battlements. It was the most direct way to the Hall of Countenance, where most of the higher ranking wizards had their quarters. 

And with some luck, she would even come across Irith Lleryn on the battlements themselves. The Dunmer was often said to spend time up there …

Aurelia pulled her hood back over her head and into her face, and stepped outside. The wind up here was sharper and colder, no walls and columns holding it back, and stole her breath for a brief moment. It bit into the skin of her cheeks like a thousand needles. At least it wasn’t snowing. 

Looking around, she could see no one other than herself up here. It didn’t really surprise her - the morning was still young, and not everyone liked to get up as early as her. 

She quickened her steps, and hurried along the battlements to the door that led up into the Hall of Countenance. It was unlocked, and she slipped inside. 

Aurelia stopped for a moment to rub her cold hands together before she descended down the stairs. She hadn’t been in the Hall of Countenance very often. Apprentices weren’t forbidden to enter, but they usually tended to stick to themselves. Most higher ranked mages preferred not to be disturbed by curious students outside of the lessons. 

And something told Aurelia that Irith Lleryn certainly could be counted among them. The Dunmer very rarely gave lectures and lessons at all. The only student she was regularly seen with was her sister …

Aurelia pulled herself out of her thoughts to look around. From some of the chambers, she could hear soft snoring, but someone sat in the small dining room, back turned to her. Not Irith Lleryn, but it was someone she could ask. Maybe they would tell her where she could find the Dunmer. 

She rounded the hole in the floor through which a magical beam of light streamed and pulsed upwards. 

The Altmer at the table must have heard her approaching, because she sat down her goblet and turned half-around in her chair. For a moment, surprise ghosted across her face, and one arched eyebrow quirked up. 

Aurelia straightened her shoulders. “Excuse me?”

The Altmer - Aurelia was sure she knew her name, she had heard it before … - inclined her head slightly. “Yes, student?” 

“I’m looking for someone. Urag gro-Shub sent me with a message for Scholar Lleryn.”

The Altmer - what had been her name again? Something with L … - nodded. “She is still resting, and I would not advise you to wake her. But you can wait for her here, if it’s urgent.” 

Aurelia hesitated for a moment, but then sat down. It would not hurt to wait a little longer, and besides, she was starved. 

“Take the time to eat something, student. I doubt anyone here would mind.” 

Aurelia didn’t need to be asked twice. Maybe she shouldn’t have skipped dinner yesterday in favour of her studies … 

“I wasn’t aware Irith had chosen an assistant”, the Altmer said after a while. 

Aurelia blinked; her bread roll stopped halfway to her mouth. “She didn’t … chose me as an assistant. Urag only sent me because I happened to be the first student in the Arcanaeum this morning.” And because she had been present when the artefact had been discovered. 

“Ah … Well, it would have surprised me if she had.” The Altmer - Leselya Nethereth!, Aurelia suddenly remembered her name - frowned. “She prefers to work alone. To have an assistant would be unusual for her.”

“I’m not really sad about it, to be honest.”

Leselya smiled weakly. “Yes, I know what you mean. But you should not judge too quickly. First impressions can foul you.” 

Aurelia didn’t answer to that. She bit a chunk off her bread roll.

“Is something the matter?” 

Aurelia nearly darted from her seat. She had not heard her approach, and she was quite sure her hearing was excellent … Hastily, she swallowed the bread roll and stood up, turning around to Scholar Lleryn, who stood only some feet away in the doorway. 

“I think this is the wrong hall for you, LaCroix.” 

Aurelia hurriedly wiped her hands clean at the serviette behind her. She should’ve payed more attention to her surroundings … 

“I have been sent for you, Scholar”, she explained. 

Irith Lleryn arched one of her well-groomed eyebrows. “I’m listening.”

“Urag gro-Shub wanted to let you know that your shipment of books has arrived.” 

The Dunmer’s face softened a little, and Aurelia even thought to spot a spark of excitement in her eyes. “Finally. Leselya, please be so kind and save some of these fruits for me. This demands my immediate attention.”

And with these words, Irith turned around and headed for the stairs.

Aurelia hurried after her. Now she was curious, and she wanted to return to the Arcanaeum anyway …

***

“What do you mean the book is missing?” Irith kept her voice level, but she could not hide her anger completely. The winter months had stalled this shipment already, and now the book she had been waiting for was just … absent?

“Stolen, that is what I mean. And I already have a suspect, if that appeases you.” Urag almost growled. “You might remember Orthorn?”

“Of course. He left the College because of … philosophical differences. No great loss, if you would ask me. He was not very skilled.” 

“I suspect he intercepted the shipment somewhere on the way and brought the book to this group of mages that he joined, in Fellglow Keep.” Urag frowned. “He stole two books before, and I guess the three of them make some sort of peace offering to those summoners.” 

“Excellent.” Irith raised a hand to her temples and rubbed them in circles. Obviously nothing involving the orb would ever go smoothly. Maybe she had been hoping for too much. “And the Arch-Mage does not think it’s of importance that books out of our library go missing.”

“It’s not a priority”, Urag grunted. He did sound just as displeased as her. 

Irith sighed. At the moment, she saw only one solution to his problem. “Fellglow Keep it is then. You wouldn’t know where to find it?”

“Southeast of Whiterun. I’ll mark it on your map.” 

Irith nodded and handed it over to him, waiting for Urag to scribble a small cross somewhere in the part of the map that showed Whiterun hold. She would have preferred not to have to travel the entire way while everywhere winter hadn’t entirely made it’s retreat, but she saw little choice. 

She rolled the map together and stuffed it back into her satchel, before she turned around to LaCroix, who had been lingering behind one of the bookshelves, clearly too curious to go about her own research. 

“You have a day to prepare yourself.”

The young Breton stared at her, dumbfounded. “What?”

“Are you hard of hearing?” Irith sighed. “You will be accompanying me.”

LaCroix blinked. “I don’t understand …”

“If you can spy on me, you might just as well carry your weight and actually do something to help me. And now go. I’m not asking you twice.”

LaCroix finally seemed to gather herself. She nodded quickly, and turned around. 

For a moment Irith wondered if she was going to regret this decision. But on the other hand, she did not yet know what to expect in Fellglow Keep. Reinforcements might be needed, if these summoners were anywhere near apt mages - and hostile. She would rather not involve any more of her fellow wizards in this affair, and of all the apprentices, LaCroix looked like the most sensible option. 

She had been with her when Irith had discovered the orb. If she wasn’t more capable than the others, she at least had more justification to become involved. 

*

They had left the carriage 3 days ago. The carriage driver had not been eager to stray off road, only to bring two mages to a remote keep. 

Spring was slowly setting its feet into the hills around, and if nothing else, Irith could appreciate the change in weather. While still not warm, the chilling cold had lost his bite here, and the sky had been almost clear for days. 

Travelling by foot was the less pleasant part. The hillsides around were, despite appearances, rocky and she would have lied had she said that she didn’t miss the comfort of a warm bed and solid roof above her head. Not to mention decent food, or a warm bath. 

After another hour of slowly walking uphill, the silhouette of an old stone fortress came finally into view. Irith reached into her satchel and protruded the map from it. If they had not been let completely astray, their destination lay just ahead. And looking around, she could not spot a single other building in miles, least of all one of the size of the fortress ahead. 

If they held their pace, they would have reached the fortress within the hour. 

Irith turned around to inform LaCroix … 

The young Breton had stopped. She looked up, towards the sky, with a worried expression on her face that betrayed no good. 

“LaCroix? Is …” 

“What is that?” LaCroix’ voice was soft, little more than a breathy whisper. Her gaze was fixed on something above them, her eyes wide. “I can’t …” She squinted, pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. “It’s too large for a bird.” 

Irith suppressed a sigh. She looked up, searched the sky above for the thing that had LaCroix worried. At first, she saw nothing, but then … 

A winged creature, it’s dark silhouette in stark contrast against the blue of the sky. It seemed to circle above them, while slowly descending. And LaCroix was right: It was too large to be a bird. In fact, the longer Irith looked at it, the less it seemed to resemble any bird she ever had seen. It had more in common with the cliff racers she had seen on Solstheim now and then … But even for a cliff racer, the creature seemed too massive. 

Then it dived deeper. A maw filled with sharp teeth, a long strong tail …

“Get down!” She could almost hear the dragon’s wings, flapping through the air. “LaCroix, get down, now!”

LaCroix’ reacted almost immediately. She flung herself to the ground, brow pressed to the earth. Irith didn’t have time to cloak herself into a mantle of invisibility - the dragon already sunk deeper with alarming speed. She crouched down, knees hitting the dirt, and pulled her head between her shoulders. It was a laughable disguise, but if she remained still and unmoving, maybe the dragon would not spare her a second glance. 

For agonizing moments, the sky above her darkened, and from the corners of her eyes she saw the shadow of the dragon’s wing, sliding across the ground. It seemed like ages of holding her breath and crouched down without daring to move until the shadow finally disappeared, and the sudden dusk vanished. Only then dared Irith to look up. 

The dragon disappeared behind the mountain crest ahead, circling higher until it’s silhouette was hidden from her sight by the high reaching summits. 

Irith pushed herself back to her feet. Some steps away, LaCroix slowly got up from the ground, wiping her hands clean at her cloak. 

“I never saw a dragon that close”, she said, adjusting her spectacles first and then her backpack. There was still a hint of fear in her voice. 

“Neither did I.” And Irith certainly did not hope to repeat this experience any time soon. Here was hoping the Dragonborn everyone was talking about would bring an end to it all sooner rather than later. “Come now. Fellglow Keep is ahead, we don’t have time to dally.”

*

As it turned out, the renegade mages in Fellglow Keep were everything but happy to have visitors. They were greeted with fireballs and ice spikes as soon as they came close enough to the old ruined fortress. 

Guarded by a flame and a storm atronach, they cut their way into the ruins. 

The mages inside were just as welcoming, and attacked on sight. Lightning arched towards them, bounced off the walls. Irith’s storm atronach stomped towards them, unperturbed, and flung them through the air like puppets. It broke through the next door, lightning crackling along its massive figure. 

The mages on the other side stared, horrified, for a moment before they combined their efforts to strike down the creature. The atronach threw lightning at them, each attack further fueling its rage and lust for battle. 

Irith called upon Oblivion to summon a sword into her right. For the moment, none of the mages seemed to pay her or LaCroix much attention, all their efforts solely focused on the angry atronachs running havoc in the chamber. The first mage was cut down before he even could raise a hand in defense. The second was just fast enough to evade the first strike, but the second slash tore open his chest. 

Between Irith, LaCroix and two raging atronachs, it didn’t take long to dispose of the remaining mages. Those left alive lay either knocked out on the ground, or retreated deeper into the fortress. 

Irith didn’t bother with chasing after them. She did not care enough about them to hunt them down - what she was here for was Orthorn, and the books he had stolen. 

The Keep was much larger on the inside than it had appeared at first glance, but given that they were cutting their way through several chambers and cells, both abandoned and occupied, it was not surprising. They were still underground. 

Irith couldn’t see Orthorn among the mages they had to fight, but that was not very surprising either. These summoners seemed to have gathered quite a following. She was quite confident that they would find the renegade sooner or later. 

LaCroix and her entered another prison, this one vaguely circular in shape with several levers in the middle that were likely used to open the cells around. They didn’t have enough time to take in their surroundings, however. The mages gathered in the chamber attacked as soon as they caught sight of them. 

Irith held up her left hand, a quickly summoned ward deflecting the lightning bolt aimed at her. The mage did not waste time to attack her again: another lightning bolt caught at her ward. 

She called upon Oblivion, an ethereal sword materialising in her right palm. Yet another lightning bolt was absorbed by the ward, and she darted forward, slashing at the mage’s chest with a downward strike. He dodged, his palm glowing in preparation of another spell. Irith’s sword struck down, severing his arm below the elbow. 

Irith did not waste more time with him. The mage was paralysed with pain, fingers clasped around the bleeding stump. He was no longer a threat.  

Another mage attacked, fire streaming from his palms, slowly eating away on her ward - and her magicka. She felt it draining, running low, as she approached him, sustaining the ward with what magicka was left inside her. Just as she reached him, the ward collapsed. 

Fire blinded her for a moment, deadly heat licked at her skin, her robes and stole her breath as her blade cut down, silencing the spell forever. The fire died with the mage. 

Irith took a deep breath. A quick observation told her that she was unharmed, that  only her robes had not been able to withstand the fire for long - smoke was fuming off them, and the scent of burned fabric clung to her nose. 

Only then did she notice that the noise of battle around her had silenced. Looking around, she could spot only LaCroix and incapacitated renegades. That, and an imprisoned Altmer in one of the cells. He looked vaguely familiar … Orthorn. 

“Please! Let me out of here! You have to let me out of here! They’re going to do something awful to me!” He rattled at his bars, eyes wide in fear. “There’s a lever, right there at the center! Hurry, before more of them show up!” 

Irith sighed. She was half-tempted to leave him behind - Orthorn didn’t look as though he had the books still with him, it seemed the summoners had tired of him rather quickly. But he might still have useful information.

“LaCroix, open his cell. And stay ready, in case that he tries something.” 

The Breton didn’t protest, although she didn’t look very happy either. She pulled the lever, and Orthorn’s cell door opened, releasing a very relieved looking Altmer. 

“Oh, thank you! Did Arch-Mage Aren send you? I knew he wouldn’t forget …”

Irith cut him off. “We’re here for the books you’ve stolen.” 

Orthorn blinked, staring blankly for a moment as realization seemed to settle in that no one had shown up for him. Good. Irith had little compassion for someone who had brought this upon himself in the first place. He had ended up in this situation out of his own doing. 

"The... the books? Oh, I see.” Orthorn slowly seemed to gather himself. “I thought perhaps... Well, I thought you'd come for me. But yes, the books. The Caller will have them. She was most interested in one of the volumes. Although not interested enough to keep me from being locked up.”

“If you think I care about your situation, you’re mistaken.” If she was being asked, he deserved every bit of what had happened to him. Only for him was she even here, crawling through an underground ruin in search of a book that should have arrived at the Arcanaeum weeks ago. “Leave. The path behind us should be clear.”

Orthorn blinked. “Don’t you need my help?”

Well, if he was phrasing it that way … She could not care less about what happened to him, but he might just as well begin to make up for this inconvenient travel he’d burdened her with. Also, it was likely he knew at least some of these dungeons. They might find this so-called Caller sooner and quicker with his help. 

“Fine, you can come with us. But if you try anything, you’ll be wishing we’d left you behind in that cage. Did I express myself clearly?”

Orthorn nodded, obviously too relieved to be out of his cage and free to think about the implications of her warning. Well, it was his own undoing if he didn’t stood true to his promise. If he died somewhere in this fortress, Irith at least would not shed any tears over him. 

Orthorn hesitantly took the lead on their way through the ruined fortress. At least he proved to be not half-useless, and didn’t make any attempts at crossing them. He looked decidedly uncomfortable and complained every so often, but at least he didn’t defect or tried to evade the inevitable fights with the other renegade mages. 

He lead them through a large entry hall and up a spiral staircase. Two other mages stood in their way, attacked with lightning and ice while retreating further up the steps. Magic exploded between them where one spell hit another, the impact throwing each combatant back. Irith send an arching bolt of lightning at one of them. She missed, but the thunderbolt bounced off the walls, sending the two renegade mages fleeing up the stairs … where they froze. 

Irith cut both of them down on her way up, ignoring the sharp intake of air behind her. These mages had brought it upon themselves. And she could not take any chances by leaving them alive and behind them, where they might rally to attack once again. LaCroix’ would need to learn that. Sometimes the wisest course of action wasn’t always the nicest. 

They didn’t meet any more resistance on the last steps up the staircase. On the upper end was a door that seemed to led into a room at the top of the tower. 

Irith turned to Orthorn. The Altmer nodded. 

She signaled him to follow a few steps behind, and opened the door. Behind was a nearly circular chamber, with alcoves to each side of where she had entered and another door across the room. In each of the alcoves a pedestal was stood, with a book laid out atop of them, and in the middle of the chamber was third one, with a thick opened tome. 

Behind stood a tall woman with her face shadowed by a dark hood. Judging by her height and from what Irith could see of her skin, she was an Altmer. The Caller, she supposed. 

The Caller looked up as they entered, her shadowed eyes narrowing underneath her hood. 

“So, you’re the ones who barged into my home and laid waste to my projects. How nice to meet you.” She didn’t show any signs of hostility, but Irith nonetheless readied a spell in her palm. 

“And you are?” Irith asked cautiously, approaching with little steps. 

“Names no longer matter. You may refer to me as The Caller”, the Altmer answered dismissively. “Now, do you have a reason for making such a mess?”

“I am here for the books.” Irith’s gaze swept across the room to the tomes in the alcoves and in front of her. If she could keep the Caller talking long enough … “These are property of the College and I intend to return them to where they belong.”

“So you’re just one of Aren’s lackeys? That’s disappointing. You show real promise.” The Caller sighed, circling around the pedestal with the book in front of her. “You come here, kill my assistants, disrupt my work … You’ve annoyed me, so I don’t think I’ll be giving you anything.” 

Irith met her gaze. “Maybe we could make an arrangement?”

The Caller cocked her head. “An arrangement? After you’ve destroyed so much?” She sighed. “Fine. Leave me the elf. You may leave with the books.” 

“What?” Orthorn gasped, horrified. “You … you can’t do that!” 

“I know he stole the books, but that’s no justice!”, LaCroix hissed, anger in her voice, anger and disappointment. 

“We have an arrangement.” Irith ignored them both, walking over to the first book, the one on the pedestal behind the Caller. She carefully took if from its place and into her satchel, where it effortlessly fitted into, thanks to an enchantment placed upon it. 

“Take your books and lea …” The Caller never got to finish her sentence. 

Her eyes widened in shock and pain as flames eat up on her, engulfing her, cloaked her from her feet up to her hood. She panicked, beat the flames, but her hands blackened as she reached up. Her skin blistered and burst open, and she fell to the ground, screaming, while the flames enveloped her completely. When the fire died, all that was left of her was a burned corpse in scorched robes that barely bore any resemblance to the person she had been in life. 

“Get the other books”, she told LaCroix, turning around while dispelling the flames that harmlessly snaked across her palm. 

“You never planned to take the bargain”, the Breton said, glancing down at the scorched corpse of the Caller. 

Irith sighed. “Of course not. I have my standards, and dealing with insane mages is not among them.” 

“That was quite …” 

Irith shrugged, dismissively. “It spared us a probably tedious fight with her and whatever she might have summoned to her defence.” 

LaCroix didn’t argue any more; she just stored the second book in her backpack before heading back to Irith. 

*

Whereas the travel to Fellglow Keep had taken them 2 weeks, the travel back to the College was over in a heartbeat. One moment, they stood amidst the Caller’s chamber, the next, an irresistible pull had them materialise in the middle of the College’s courtyard, near the statue that was stood in its centre. 

It was one of those moments that Irith truly appreciated the tutoring she had enjoyed in Raven Rock. Not even Tolfdir or Phinis Gestor had knowledge of this spell, but teleportation was a well honed art of her people and had been for several hundred years. 

She suppressed a relieved sigh when LaCroix’ let go of her forearm. The young Breton looked around, a mixture of puzzlement and excitement etched into her features. 

“One day, I really might need to ask you to teach me that spell.”

Irith frowned. “I will think about …” 

She didn’t get to finish her sentence, for from the side of the courtyard a tall, haughty figure marched towards them, clad in black silver-brimmed robes and with his almost white hair neatly combed back from his face and behind his pointed ears. 

“May I have a minute of your time, scholar?” There was a coolness in his gaze that told her that it wasn’t a question, no matter how it had been phrased. 

“What is the matter,  _ advisor? _ ”, Irith replied coolly, and suddenly painfully aware of her scorched and battle-worn appearance. It was certainly not the sort of impression she usually liked to give of, least of all to someone she trusted as little as Ancano. 

The Thalmor scrutinised her up and down, and his yellow eyes seemed to linger on the burned and scorched parts of her robes, the smudges of dirt on her hands and her knees. 

“Do not play fool on me, you know exactly what I am asking for!” His gaze flickered over to the door of the Hall of Elements ever so briefly. 

Irith kept her expression calm and level. Ancano was dangerous, and he would exploit any weakness she let show. She didn’t avert her eyes when she reached inside her satchel and handed the book within to LaCroix. 

“Please return these books to the Arcaneum and inform me when you’ve done so. You may leave now, student.” 

LaCroix’ gaze flickered down briefly at the  _ Night of Tears  _ she now held in her hands, before she nodded quickly and headed for the Hall of Elements without further ado, leaving Irith with Ancano in the courtyard. 

“You have my full attention, advisor.” Her smile was a lie, but a carefully woven one. 

“You were the one who discovered the Eye of Magnus underneath Saarthal, were you not?” Ancano’s frowned slightly, and although he was a good enough liar to hide his disdain, she saw right through it. 

“Yes. I should think I don’t need to repeat the obvious.” And he was certainly not asking out of mere curiosity. The so-called Thalmor advisor couldn’t be trusted. Neither of the Thalmor could, of course, but having one of them so close … It was like a viper in the crook of your neck, ready to bite. In fact, she was not sure whether or not this particular viper hadn’t already injected its deadly poison. 

“I am still awaiting a full report on what happened in Saarthal. It has not yet showed up on my desk.”

Irith arched an eyebrow. “I am surprised you take such an interest in this artefact. You are merely an advisor, are you not?” 

“If I remember correctly, you found the artefact important enough to send a student back to the College, alone, to deliver word to the Arch-Mage. In person. That sounds precisely like the sort of thing that should matter to everyone. Especially me.” He frowned, a sigh escaping his thin lips. “Thank you for your help, scholar. You may go now.” 

Irith narrowed her eyes as she looked after him, heading towards the Hall of Elements, doubtlessly to stare at the orb, as he had done so often during the past days and months. One thing she knew for certain: She would need to be extremely cautious about what exactly she wrote into this report she was supposed to deliver. 

***

Aurelia retreated with the  _ Night of Tears  _ into a corner of the Arcanaeum. According to Urag, this had been the book Scholar Lleryn had ordered before Orthorn had intercepted the shipment. 

And somehow she had ascended to be just what scholar Nethereth and the old Orc had thought her to be: the Dunmer’s assistant. How exactly that had happened, she couldn’t tell, but obviously Irith believed there was something inside this tome worth reading. 

And now it was up to Aurelia to find out what it was, and keep Lleryn updated about it. 

So she sat down and opened the old tome on her lap, and began reading. Several of the paragraphs were filled with endless notes and ramblings, and she found herself flipping through the pages, merely skimming over them instead of the careful study she was supposed to do. 

Aurelia suppressed a yawn. It was unlike her not to focus completely on her work. But she was tired, every muscle in her body felt sore. The scent of smoke still clung to her nose, her robes … 

She rubbed her eyes, before returning her attention to the book in her lap. There had to be something inside here, something more significant than these ramblings … 

She turned a page …  and stopped at the mention of Saarthal. Finally. She righted herself in her seat and smoothed the page. 

_ Saarthal holds a prominent place in Skyrim history, even if most do not remember it by name. It is of course the site of one of the first major Nord settlements, one of the first cities of men in Skyrim, and the earliest known capital of their civilization. It was also the site of terrible bloodshed, when the elves attempted to drive the Nords out of Skyrim, to succeed only in incurring their wrath in the form of Ysgramor and his fabled Five Hundred Companions, who swept the elves from Skyrim and firmly established it as the home of the Nords. _ __   
__   
_ All this is known, but little else. What happened on that Night of Tears, when Saarthal was razed to the ground? What provoked the elves to such a deliberate, vicious attack, and what prompted such a severe response from the Nords? _ __   
__   
_ Vingalmo's Treatise on the Altmer Antecedent suggests that the elves of the Merethic Era, along with their counterparts the early Dwemer, possessed a degree of sophistication unparalleled in Tamriel. They displayed power beyond what could be expected of the time. While a distinct explanation is not given for this, I believe that this work, compared with the early writings of Heseph Chirirnis, suggest that something greater was at work on that night in Saarthal. _ __   
__   
_ The true motives behind the Night of Tears have been obscured to us by the passage of time, but I believe this was not a simple war of territory, or of control of Skyrim. I believe that what happened was a significant event based around something very particular. _ __   
__   
_ The Nords found something when they built their city, buried deep in the ground. They attempted to keep it buried, but the elves learned of it and coveted it for themselves. Thus they assaulted Saarthal, their goal not to drive the Nords out but to secure this power for themselves. I believe Ysgramor knew something of what the elves would find under Saarthal, and rallied together his people to keep the elves from gaining it. When Nords once again controlled Skyrim, this power was buried deep below the earth and sealed away. _ __   
_   
_ __ Time has kept this knowledge from us, but it is my hope that Time will also reveal the truth of these words. Every effort will be made to relocate Saarthal, and find that which has been lost to us.

Aurelia stopped. Something had been buried underneath Saarthal, something so powerful that the legendary Ysgramor had rallied his people to keep the elves from taking a hold on it? Her gaze wandered away from the page, down. 

The orb? Was the very thing that the old Nords had sought to protect now within this College? It seemed too big to just be coincidence, and they had encountered nothing even remotely comparable in Saarthal. 

That was certainly something Scholar Lleryn would like to hear … 

“Are you reading something interesting?” 

Aurelia’s head bobbed up, and almost immediately, she felt her cheeks warm up as her gaze fell upon Brelyna Maryon, who was standing just some steps away from her, a book in her hand. 

“Yes, I’m … researching.” 

Brelyna smiled, somewhat nervously. “I’m too. I’m … trying to get this spell to work, you know. I have wondered …” She shook her head and sat down in the chair beside her. 

“What … what did you wonder?” Aurelia looked over to the young Dunmer.

“Oh, you were so helpful the last time you helped me … But I can’t ask you again! I turned you into a cow!”

That was something she certainly would never forget. She had been unable to leave her bed for a day. Obviously being turned into a cow didn’t make you suddenly immune against the fits of coughing and sneezing her own cow hairs had caused her … 

“But we’re all here to learn, aren’t we? If I can help you, I do it.” She felt her cheeks flush up again. 

“You would? Really? I promise you, I won’t turn you into a cow again! Or green …” 

“It’s alright, Brelyna, really. You should’ve seen my first attempts of casting a self-created spell …” Poor Gascard certainly would never forget that. They had simultaneously agreed to never talk about it again. 

“If you’re really sure about it ... I tell you when I have worked it out. And … no cows this time, really. I’m going to make it as safe as possible!” 

“Anytime.” 

Her stomach fluttered nervously at Brelyna’s thankful smile, and she was almost sure her face had turned the colour of her hair by now. 

She hastily returned her attention to the book on her lap that she had almost forgotten about, trying to ignore the too quick beating of her heart. Scholar Lleryn would still want to know about this … 

Thinking about that was so much easier than about the fact that she just couldn’t say no to Brelyna, no matter how much her head protested. 

 


	3. The Augur of Dunlain

**Rain’s Hand, 4E 202**

 

Much to her surprise - and her disdain - Irith found herself not alone on the battlements this afternoon: When she stepped onto the roof and wandered along the balustrade towards the main tower, she caught sight of something she’d rather unsee.

One of the young apprentice’s stood with his back turned to her, and pressed a young Dunmer against the wall, his tongue stuck rather deep into her mouth. Adri had her arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to her, moaning.

Irith was at him in a heartbeat.

“Don’t you have research to do?”

The young apprentice stared at her, and his face turned a very ugly shade of pink.

“Leave! Now!”

The apprentice’s glance flickered over to Adri, then back to her, before he run off, all but fleeing along the battlements.

Irith whirled around to her sister. “What have you been thinking?”

“I was only taking a break!” Adri crossed her arms over her chest, her chin raised in defiance.

“A break? That’s what you call it?” Irith nodded sharply over her shoulder, towards the apprentice who now had almost reached the Hall of Attainment’s roof entrance.

“So what? I wanted it, he wanted it, what’s your problem!?”

“He’s at least five years older than you, Adri.”

“I’m not a child anymore!” Adri didn’t back off. “And you’re just angry because he’s a Nord! But they’re not all like the one who …”

“Hold your tongue!” Irith took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

“You’re not my mother! You don’t get to tell me anything!” Adri almost screamed, tears in her eyes.

Before Irith could reply anything, she had rushed past her, running towards the very same roof entrance the other apprentice had disappeared through mere moments ago.

Irith thought about following her, but then decided against it. Adri most likely wouldn’t want to talk to her right now. Her sister was still too young to behave reasonably, no matter how often she claimed that she was not a child any longer. But sixteen years hardly made an adult, not even among the short-lived humans.

Irith took a deep breath and rubbed her brow, where she felt the seed of another headache growing. She had been responsible for Adri ever since they had to leave Solstheim, when her sister was only four years old. They had always been close, the death of their parents tying them together, but recently, Irith feared they were drifting apart.

Here was hoping Adri was at least adult enough to see reason, sooner rather than later.

She had never acted so irresponsible and stupid when she had been Adri’s age.

Irith sighed and closed her eyes, allowing the cold air on the rooftops to cool her head and her temper.  

The sound of a door opening to her side made her look up. A frown knit her brow as her gaze fell upon the one who had just stepped out onto the battlements.

It was Ancano.

His expression hardened alarmingly as his eyes settled on her, and he pulled his lips into a thin, malcontent line. “You there, scholar. I need you to come with me immediately. Let’s go.”

Irith frowned. “I hadn’t noticed that I suddenly answer to you, advisor.”

The Thalmor sighed, obviously annoyed. “Well, then allow me to clarify the situation.” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “I’d like to know why there’s someone claiming from the Psijic Order here in the College. More importantly, I’d like to know why he’s asking for you specifically.”

Irith forced her expression to remain calm, although she could feel her heart skip a beat in her chest. It had been months since last one of the Order had contacted her, and now one of them had come here, in perso,n to speak with her? Her thoughts immediately wandered to the Eye of Magnus, down, in the Hall of Elements. Had something happened? The last time she had seen it, it had looked undisturbed, as it had in the past months.

One thing she knew for certain: If a Psijic monk personally had turned up here to speak with her, something important and probably worrying was going on.

“We’re going to have a little chat with him, and find out what exactly it is he wants.” Ancano signaled her to follow.

“I seem to remember you’re only an advisor here, Ancano”, she pointed out, coolly.

“Technically, that is true”, Ancano retorted with an annoyed sigh. “But I still report to the Aldmeri Dominion, and I cannot ignore this situation. Don’t worry, you can return to your petty squabbles and meaningless ‘research’ as soon as this matter is resolved.”

Irith frowned slightly. Of course he would report anything he saw and heard of her conversation to his superiors at the Thalmor. Wasn’t that what he had been doing here, ever since he had first come to the College? No one within these halls, not even Nirya, had any doubt that the true reason he was here was to spy.

Well, she would need to be extremely careful about what she said, but she had her experiences with lying. She was confident she could talk to the Psijic month without giving too much away.

Ancano had reached the top of the stairs, and opened the door to the Arch-Mage’s chambers. “Now, you’re going to speak to this … Monk … and find out why he is here, and then he will be removed from College grounds.”

She had only been in the Arch-Mage’s chambers a few times before, and their grandeur still managed to impress her. It was a nearly circular, spacious room. Shelves that ached underneath the weight of several books, soul gems, alchemy ingredients and other artifacts framed the walls, together with a very well equipped alchemy station and an enchanter’s table. The room was lit by several floating mage lights, as was the alchemy garden in its very middle.

In front of said garden stood Arch-Mage Savos Aren in his elaborate blue and silver robes, and a tall stranger wrapped in the same robes the apparition under Saarthal had worn. He was an Altmer, judging by the golden tint of his skin.

When Irith approached, suddenly the whole room seemed to drain of its colours, and Aren as well as Ancano behind her froze to a stop, their eyes staring into nothing. Even the mage lights above her head had stopped their slight pulsing; now their glow seemed static, fixed, wrong.

“Please, do not be alarmed”, the robed Altmer - the Psijic - said. “I mean you no harm.” His gaze swept over her, scrutinising. “It is good to meet you in person. I am Quaranir, of the Psijic Order.”

Irith glanced over to Ancano. Well, at least she wouldn’t need to be careful with her words now, she supposed. The so-called advisor didn’t appear as though he had the slightest clue of what was going on around him, and the same rang true for Savos Aren. She wondered how far the effects of the spell stretched. Had time outside these very chambers frozen to stop as well?

“What is it you want?”

“I’d simply like to talk to you. I’ve given us the a chance to speak privately, but I’m afraid I can’t do it for long. We must be brief.” He sighed. “The situation here at your College is of dire importance, and attempts to contact you as we have previously have failed. I believe it is due to the very source of our concern. This object … The Eye of Magnus as your people have taken to calling it. The energy coming from it has prevented us from reaching you through the visions you have already seen.”  

Irith frowned. It had struck her as strange that she had heard nothing of the Psijic any more ever since they had first contacted her underneath Saarthal. If the Eye of Magnus truly had interfered with their attempts, that was certainly an explanation … and a reason to be worried. It spoke of its power.  

“The longer it remains here, the more dangerous the situation becomes”, Quaranir continued. “And so I have come here personally to tell you that it must be dealt with.”

“I’m surprised your order has decided to intervene. You have tended to be rather … isolationist in the past, if I recall correctly.”

The Psijic nodded. “You are correct, we typically don’t intervene directly into events. My presence here will be seen as an affront to some within the order. As soon as we have finished, I will be leaving your College.” His eyes wandered over to the frozen figure of Ancano, whose face showed an ugly but now empty, and unblinking, glare. “I’m all too aware that my arrival has aroused suspicion, especially in Ancano, your Thalmor associate. Nevertheless”, he continued, “my Order will not act directly. You must take it upon yourself to do so.”

Irith suppressed a sigh. Of course. Had that not been the very reason the Psijic had first contacted her?

“Why, if I may ask, is Ancano so suspicious of your Order?”

“The Thalmor see our Order as a threat because we have power, and we will not allow them to control us. I assure you that I mean you no harm.”

She was willing to believe it … for now. And she certainly mistrusted Ancano more than she did the Psijics. “May I know what exactly is the reason for your visit?”

“As you may have learned, the object … the Eye … is immensely powerful”, Quaranir said, sombrely. “The world is not ready for it. If it remains here, it will be misused. Indeed, many of the Order believe it has already … Rather, something will happen soon, something that cannot be avoided.”

“If there is nothing I could do to prevent it, why are we talking?” Irith frowned. “What exactly is it that your Order expects me to do?”

“We believe that your efforts should be directed towards dealing with the aftermath, but we cannot predict what that will be.” The Psijic sighed. “I fear I have already overstepped the bounds of my Order, but I will offer you this: seek out the Augur of Dunlain here in your College. His perception may be more coherent than ours.”

Irith’s frown deepened. She had spent more than five years in the College, and yet had never even heard a whisper of that name.

“Who is he?”

“He was once a student here at the College. Now he is … something different.”

Irith sighed. That was something she would need to find out for herself, as it seemed. “Do you know where I can find him?”

“I … I am unsure. He is somewhere within the College. Surely one of your colleagues must know his location.” Quaranir sighed. “I am sorry I cannot offer you with further help, but this conversation requires a great deal of effort on my part. Now, I am afraid I must leave. We will continue to watch over you, and guide you as best we can. It is within you to succeed. Never forget that.”

And with that, the world around them sped up again, and colour returned. The mage lights began to dance and to pulse once more, and Ancano stepped forward, unaware of what just had happened.  

“Well! What is the meaning of this?”

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understand.” The Psijic sounded believably astounded.

“Don’t play coy. You asked to see a specific member of the College. Here she is. Now what it is that you want?” Ancano almost snarled, his face clearly betraying his disdain.

“There’s been a misunderstanding. Clearly I should not be here. I shall simply take my leave.”

“What!?” Ancano hissed. “What trickery is this? You’re not going anywhere until I find out what you’re up to!”

“I am not ‘up to’ anything. I apologize if I have offended you in any way.”

And with those words, he waved a hand and disappeared in a faint glow of light.

“We will see about this”, snarled Ancano at the fading figure of Quaranir, before he himself whirled around and marched out of the Arch-Mage’s chambers, clearly offended by the way he had been treated.  

*

Irith waited until late afternoon, when the rumours and the gossip about the mysterious robed monk had subsided a little, before she decided to seek information about the Augur of Dunlain. It was unlikely, given that the Psijic had frozen him in time, but she wouldn’t risk for Ancano to draw conclusions between the appearance of the monk and her sudden interest in the Augur.

She would rather he didn’t become any more involved in this affair when he already was.

She found Leselya Nethereth upstairs, bowed over the enchanting station, where she placed a soul gem into a socket.

“May I have a moment of your time?”

Leselya looked up from her work, a small frown knitting her brow, yet she nodded.

“Of course.” She turned away from the table. “What is it?”  

“I have to speak with the Augur of Dunlain. You wouldn’t know where I can find him, by any chance?” Leselya had been a member of College since before Irith had joined herself, even before Irith had ever thought about leaving Solstheim for good. There were other mages within the College she could have asked, but Leselya was the one she trusted most of all of them.

“Actually, yes.” A slight squint around her eyes betrayed Leselya’s curiosity. “If you don’t mind me asking, why the sudden interest? I was not aware you even knew of his existence. Very few do.”

“I did not”, Irith answered brusquely. Leselya’s curiosity was something she had not accounted for. Not that she worried about her friend’s secrecy, but someone else might eavesdrop on their conversation. “Where can I find him now?”

“He is down in the Midden, or he was, the last time I visited him.” She smiled weakly. “Considering his … state, I doubt he has left at all. If you want, I can lead you to him.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, but thank you.” Maybe she was too careful, but she’d rather not have any witnesses while she spoke to the Augur. If the Psijic order took excessive care to speak with her in secret, so should she.

“Well, if you think.” Leselya knit her brow. “Be careful when you head down there, Irith. The place is as ancient as it is dangerous.”

“I am aware.” It would not be her first time, after all. “I’ll leave you to your work then.”

She made sure no one was following or watching her when she crossed the courtyard over to the Hall of Attainment. Underneath the stairs, a trapdoor led down to the Midden, but it was, of course, locked tight. She cast a swift glance about her shoulder, but the apprentice’s were either absent or too occupied with their studies to take notice of her. Good.

She protruded a small key from her robes and turned it in the trapdoor’s lock. With a last glance about her shoulder, she opened the hatch and slipped through.

Darkness enveloped her after the first few steps down the ladder. She summoned a candle light as soon as her feet met the ground.

The Midden hadn’t changed since the last time she had come here. The walls were still grey and partly frozen over, and her breath condensed into a wisp of fog in front of her face. The cold air let the fine hair on the back of her neck and her arms rise.

She had only been here once, when Adri had snuck into the Midden and she had chased after her, only barely saving her sister from an ice-wraith attack. At least Adri had learned her lesson, as she had never returned to the Midden ever since … Although Irith would have preferred she had seen reason sooner.

Magicka snaked over her skin while she followed the corridor ahead, a spell readied in each hand. Whatever this place had been once, she did not know, and neither did the others, but it felt ancient, with magicka invigorating her every sense, surging through her body.

It didn’t take long until behind a corner the first draugr came into sight. She struck him down with a bolt of lightning before he could turn around, carefully stepping around the slumped corpse.

At a crossing, she stopped, and took the time to orientate herself. She had almost forgotten about how labyrinthic the Midden could be. A dozen of different tunnels lead to and fro the chamber she was stood in, some deeper and some lower than her. Below her, at the floor, a couple of draugrs slurped about, yet unaware of her presence.

Irith called upon her magicka, canalysing it through her until her body seemed to fade to a whisp, nearly indiscernible from the walls around. Then she began her descent. Once at the ground, she made sure to stick to the walls. The chameleon spell might hide her from the draugrs eyes, but she was no sneak and they might still hear her.

She slipped into the corridor behind the two draugr, right when one of the undead turned around, his glowing blue eyes staring into her direction. Irith froze, stood unmoving for several heartbeats, until the undead finally seemed to decide that it had only imagined the noise, and turned around.

She quickened her steps and followed the corridor, deeper into the Midden.

After a time, the surge of magicka appeared to grow stronger. It was almost as if something was pushing at her, like a stream she was struggling against. As if something was trying to keep her away, turn her steps and make her leave.   

Her candlelight illuminated a doorway ahead. The surge of magicka suddenly grew stronger, almost tangible. It almost felt like hand, pushing at her shoulders to keep her away from the door - as though an invisible will lay behind it, adamant to her have her leave.

_“Your perseverance will only lead to disappointment.”_

The voice was deep, echoing, and seemed to come from behind the door.

Irith tried the handle, but it wouldn’t open. Almost as though it was barred from the other side.

“A risk I am willing to take”, she told the door, and the voice behind. “I came for answers, and I won’t leave without them.”

_“Still you persist? Very well, you may enter.”_

The door swung open.

Behind lay a circular chamber, and in its centre a focus point, not dissimilar to those in the Hall of Elements and in the courtyard. Above it, a glowing pulsing sphere hovered, illuminating walls, floor and ceiling.

“You are the Augur of Dunlain?”

The light seemed to sigh, and flickered for a moment. _“I am that which you have been seeking. Your efforts are in vain. It has already began. But those who have sent you have not told you what they seek. What you seek.”_

Irith raised an eyebrow. “And what might that be?”

Another sigh. _“You seek that which all who wield magic seek. Knowledge. You shall find this: Knowledge will corrupt. It will destroy. It will consume. You seek meaning, shelter in knowledge. You will not find it. The Thalmor sought the same thing, and it shall lead to his end as it has to many others.”_

Irith frowned. “Ancano has come to seek you out before me?” Who else could it have been? Especially given Ancano’s interest in the Eye of Magnus.

_“Yes. The one who calls himself Ancano has sought my knowledge as well, through very different questions.”_ The Augur paused for a moment, an almost contemplative silence. _“Your path differs from most. You are being guided, pushed towards something. It is a good path, one untravelled by many. It is a path that can save your College. I will tell you what you need to know to follow it further.”_

“I’m listening.”

_“You, and those aiding you, wish to know more about the Eye of Magnus. You wish to avoid the disaster of which you are not yet aware.”_ If the light had had eyes, Irith knew it would have scrutinised her now. _“To see through Magnus’ eye without being blinded, you require his staff.”_ Another sigh let the Augur shiver. _“Events now spiral quickly towards the inevitable centre, so you must act with haste. Take this knowledge to your Arch-Mage.”_

And with those words, the Augur of Dunlain fell quiet, it’s light subduing.

*

She found Arch-Mage Savos Aren in the Hall of Elements.

He stood in front of the Eye of Magnus, it’s light casting a blue shine over his face, and seemed deeply lost in thought and contemplation. He didn’t even notice her approach, only looking up from the orb when she cleared her throat.

“Can I help you, scholar?”

“I’ve found important information that may be of interest to you.”

Arch-Mage Aren’s gaze flickered over to the orb floating in the centre of the chamber, before focusing on her anew. “Really? And what might that be?” He sounded only mildly curious.

“I sought out the Augur of Dunlain. According to him, we need to find the Staff of Magnus.”

Aren frowned, puzzled. “Well … I’d certainly love to have such a powerful staff, but I’m not really sure that any of us might need it.”

“The Augur of Dunlain seems to believe it is connected to the Eye, “ Irith explained. “Supposedly it is the only thing that can protect us from its power.” At least if she had interpreted the Augur’s words correctly.

“Well, if the Augur specifically mentioned the Staff of Magnus …” Aren’s curiosity appeared to be piqued. “I … am impressed with your initiative. Of course, someone will need to follow up on this.”

Irith suppressed a sigh. There was really no one but her who could do it, no matter how much she wished for it. But the Psijic Order had specifically contacted her. It was up to her to see it through.

“You wouldn’t have an idea as to where I should begin my search?”

“A most impressive attitude. But still … Something as specific and ancient as the Staff of Magnus … I’m not sure we’d ever find something like that. Hm …” The Arch-Mage frowned. “I seem to recall Mirabelle mentioning the staff somewhat recently. Why don’t you see if she can tell you anything?”

Irith nodded, but Aren had already turned his attention back to the Eye and seemingly forgotten about her presence. He mumbled something to himself, transfixed anew by the artifact.

She left the Hall of Elements, stepping out into the cold air in the Courtyard. Briefly she considered seeking Mirabelle out momentarily, but then decided against it. Darkness was already falling, and whatever the master-wizard had to tell her, it could certainly wait until tomorrow.

She headed back to the Hall of Countenance, an eye kept open for Ancano, but the Thalmor, for once, didn’t seem to be interested in bothering her further. Good. She certainly had neither the time nor the patience to deal with him twice during the same day.

What the Augur had told her about Ancano had alarmed her. She had never trusted Ancano, but if he had sought knowledge about the Eye of Magnus, that was enough reason to worry.

She found Leselya in her chamber upstairs, a book opened in her lap. The Altmer looked up at her approach, a frown knitting her brow.

“I take it you found the Augur of Dunlain.”

Irith nodded. A quick glance about her shoulder assured her that they were alone.

“You seem … worried”, Leselya pointed out, marking the page of her book and closing it.

“It might be that I will have to leave the College again in some time. There is … something that demands my attention.”

“I don’t suppose that you will tell me what it is?”

Irith frowned. “I need you to keep an eye on Ancano while I’m away. I don’t trust him, and I’d like to be prepared if he makes a move.”

Leselya sighed. “I will try my best.”

“Good.”

Maybe she was wrong about Ancano, but his interest in the Eye of Magnus was hardly something she merely had imagined, and he was certainly no friend of the College, no matter what he claimed to be. It was the wisest if the Thalmor didn’t learn any more about the artefact than he probably already had. An object of such power was prone to draw their attention.

And she would loathe to leave the College without being prepared for every possibility.


	4. Mzulft

Everything appeared to be in order. The soul gem was placed in its socket, ready to bestow the goggles with its power. She had tested the same enchantment on an old amulet she’d found in the back of her clothing chest and it had worked without any difficulties. 

If she hadn’t overlooked an important step, it should work. 

Aurelia cast a spell on the soul gem, testing the potency of the soul held within. Capturing a greater soul had been the most difficult part of it all, and if she found out that she had placed the wrong soul gem in the socket … 

But it was the right one.

She took a deep breath. She had only one attempt. If she failed, she would waste the soul she had spent so much effort on capturing, and maybe even destroy or damage the goggles. Which would mean she’d have to start over from scratch. 

She placed both her hands to the right and left of the goggles, focusing her will so that magicka flowed through her into the table, until the engravings and the runes with which it was imbued started to glow. Now she could almost feel the captured soul pulsating within the soul gem. 

Aurelia took another deep breath, before she began channeling the soul’s power, carefully infusing the item with it until the runes inscribed on the table glowed even more intense, even stronger, almost blinding. The goggles in front of her began to glow as the soul’s power began to charge them, and around it, the corresponding glyphs for the enchantment glowed white and blue while the light of the others began to subdue.

The soul gem shivered in its socket, emitting a faint glow, before it crumbled, and dissolved to fine dust as the soul held within was consumed. 

The glyphs imbued into the table lay still once more, their glow gone and faded. 

Aurelia reached for the goggles and turned around, only to find herself looking at Brelyna Maryon, who looked as though she had been about to leave. 

“Oh! You’re finished? I didn’t want to disturb you, so I thought …” 

“You can use the Enchanter’s table now, if you like.” Aurelia stepped aside. 

Her head was spinning. How long exactly had Brelyna been there? 

“I’ve been looking for you, actually!” Brelyna showed her a nervous smile. “I think I figured out how to make my spell work, and I thought … Because you had agreed …”

“What? Oh …” She had half-forgotten about it. “Sure.” 

“I promise it’s safe. I really worked hard on it, did my research …” 

“What’s … uh, what’s your spell going to do, exactly?”, Aurelia asked, somewhat nervously. She couldn’t back off now - she had already promised her help. But it’d be good to know what was supposed to happen to her. 

“It should make you invisible, but by altering what you are and not how you appear. Basically … you’ll become like a ghost, for a while?”

“You’re trying to convert an Illusion spell into an Alteration spell?”

“Yes! It’s supposed to be a cloak, of sorts. Anybody close enough to you should become invisible as well. Do you think it’s going to work?” Brelyna’s gaze was almost begging. “I tried it on my chair and it worked, but a living person is different perhaps.”

“I really don’t know. I guess we’ll have to try it to see how it turns out.”

“Thank you, really. I know I shouldn’t have come to you, after last time …” Brelyna looked at her fingers, sheepishly. “But you’re the only one I trust enough to ask. Onmund would laugh at me and J’Zargo …”

“I understand!”, Aurelia hurried to assure her. She would rather die than asking J’Zargo for help … Whatever his problem with her was, she had yet to find a way to resolve them. Indeed, she wasn’t sure whether or not J’Zargo had tried to sabotage her with his Flame Cloak scrolls … Given how competitive he was, it was at least possible. 

“Alright then …  just stand there and don’t move.” 

Before Aurelia came to ponder about how this was probably a bad idea, she felt a strange sensation wash over her. Her skin prickled, as though she had been suddenly dumped into cold water. 

“Oh my gods …” Brelyna stared at her, eyes wide in horror. 

That couldn’t mean anything good. Aurelia wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know what had gone wrong, but what did it help? She glanced down at herself - and felt her heart stop. 

She was naked, but it was not only her clothes that were gone (although she could still feel them, so they had still to be there, in a way). Her skin was too. What she stared at now was raw fat and muscle and pulsing blood vessels, as though she had been skinned alive. 

“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, that’s horrible!” Brelyna rang her hands. “I should really stop inventing spells. I’m obviously not good enough yet. I’m so sorry, I’ll fix this. Just … wait a moment.”

Before Aurelia could protest - she was not sure if fixing it would not only make it worse, given that Brelyna’s last attempt to fix a miscast spell had turned her into numerous animals - a new wave of magic washed over her, and her invisible skin prickled anew. 

Aurelia stole a glance at Brelyna’s face, half expecting to see her looking even more horrified, but instead, there was relief painted all over her face. Taking that as a good sign, she looked down on herself. 

Her skin and her clothes were visible again. 

“I’m so sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“No, no, I’m fine … I think …” She laughed nervously. “At least you didn’t really skin me. I think I know what the problem is …”, she went on, quickly, “ … you need to alter more than just one thing at once.” 

“You mean … because it worked on the clothes but not on you? Not really. I … that makes sense.” Brelyna sighed. “Thank you. I’ll try to improve it slowly, before I try to change something so complex as a living being.” 

“Anytime. If you like, I can … uh … look the spell over, see if you forgot anything?” Aurelia smiled nervously. 

Brelyna beamed at her. “You would do that? Thank you!” 

And before Aurelia could react, Brelyna had flung her arms around her and pulled her into a short, enthusiastic embrace. Her heart was suddenly hammering wild in her chest, so loud it thundered in her ears. She pinned her eyes at her hands when Brelyna pulled back, trying to wish the flaming red from her cheeks. 

*

Mirabelle Ervine raised an eyebrow at her question. “Well, that’s an odd question. Why would you be asking?” 

Irith glanced about her shoulder. “I believe it may be connected to the Eye of Magnus.”

“The Eye of Magnus? I can appreciate that this … thing, this Orb … It’s very impressive. Very unique, and definitely worth studying. But let’s not jump to any conclusions, or assign it importance beyond what we’re certain of.” The Master Wizard sounded more than a little sceptic. 

Irith suppressed a sigh. If she had been in Mirabelle’s position, she doubted she would have reacted very differently, and still … “I am not following this lead on a whim, Mirabelle. I spoke with the Augur of Dunlain and he specifically mentioned the Staff of Magnus in connection with the orb.” 

“The Augur?” Mirabelle frowned. “Well, the staff is said to be very powerful. Has the capacity to store an incredible amount of magical power, as the story goes. But it’s more myth than anything at this point. I’ve no doubt that it actually exists, but no one has seen it in, what, decades? Longer? I’m not sure. The only time I’ve heard it mentioned was when those Synod characters showed up some months ago looking for it.”

The Synod? Irith frowned. From all she knew, the Synod was more interesting in harbouring power than magical research. If they were looking for the staff as well, she better saw to it that she beat them to it. They were unlikely to give up upon an artefact of such power. 

“What business did the Synod have to come here?” 

“I was quite surprised to find them on our doorstep myself”, Mirabelle said with a frown. “They seemed amiable enough, but their line of questioning made me … uneasy. It became quite clear they’re trying to hoard powerful artefacts, looking to consolidate power.” 

Irith nodded slightly. That sounded very much like what she had been expecting. “So they didn’t know the location of the staff?”

“No one here does. The Synod seemed convinced it was somewhere here in Skyrim. They inquired about the ruins of Mzulft, but that’s all I remember. It sounded like they were heading there, though they were rather secretive about why.”

“Could you tell me where I can find Mzulft? If the Synod mages are still there, I think I should talk with them.”

 

The path lead steadily upward along withered steps along the hillside. Now and there, broken archways seamed the way, casting their shadows over the lonely figures of Irith and the small Breton trudging after her. 

Irith had intended to travel to Mzulft alone, but she had no unlimited authority over the apprentices. And as soon as LaCroix had caught caught wind of where she was heading, the young woman had more or less invited herself.

Well, if LaCroix was so intend of accompanying her, she might just as well make use of her knowledge about the Dwemer. Irith could not say that her knowledge about these long gone people was anywhere near complete, as she had never been quite as interested in them as Arniel Gane had, to name only the College’s resident expert in the field.

An engraved doorway came into view ahead, half embedded into the mountain side. 

Irith called upon her magicka as they approached, summoning a sword into her right, while with the left she reached for the door to push it open.

“Be careful. We don’t know what lies in wait.” 

The door cracked open, aching, to reveal a small antechamber behind. At the door on the other end sat a figure, draped in blue ropes, whose head flew up to stare at them. Sweat dripped from his brow, as blood did from the corners of his mouth. 

“Crystal … gone …” He coughed up more blood, spilling it all across his blue robes. “Find … Paratus … in oculory...” His head to the side, he slid down at the door, still and unmoving, not a single breath moving his chest anymore.

Approaching, Irith could see several deep slashes at the back of his robes, where something seemingly had impaled him. 

“Search his body. He ought to have something on him.” 

LaCroix was pale, but she did as asked, kneeling down beside the dead mage. After a short while, she protruded a key and a blood stained piece of paper. 

“I think we’re going to need the crystal … If the other Synod mages have ended like …” LaCroix’ voice died off, and she quickly turned away from the dead man, turning the key in the lock of the door that would lead them deeper into the ruin. 

“Obviously. Keep your eyes open for it.” 

LaCroix nodded, pushing at the door. It’s wings cracked open, to see them deeper into dark dusty halls and corridors, filled with steam evaporating from the pipes that run along the walls. 

Irith tightened her grip around the bound sword in her right. The halls lay deserted, but an awfully slashed and mutilated body in blue robes that lay some steps ahead on the ground warned of imminent danger. These ruins were not as deserted as they looked. 

A flame sparked within her palm. Whatever had been the Synod mages undoing, Irith did not intend it to be hers. 

And it didn’t take long before they were first attacked: Out of of one the pipes crawled a creature that strongly resembled a spider, only it was made of metal and very clearly of Dwemer design. 

Irith struck it down with a flash of fire, but a second one jumped at her from the dark corners of the corridor, it’s segmented legs tearing at her boots and trousers at it tried to crawl up on her. She flung it against the wall with a kick and cut it down. 

“Dwemer spiders”, murmured LaCroix behind her. “They are …”

“If you even think about deconstructing one of them, I will leave you behind. We are not here to satisfy your curiosity.” 

“I understand.” LaCroix’ answer came out as a sigh. 

Irith glanced down at the destroyed constructs, but none of them seemed to be carrying a crystal with them. 

She signaled LaCroix to follow close behind and proceeded deeper into the ruin.

**

Sometimes Leselya Nethereth had to wonder if Irith knew exactly what she had demanded of her. Keeping a watchful gaze over Ancano might be feasible if one was not occupied with scheduled duties like teaching. 

Unsurprisingly, her students noticed her lack of concentration, the swift glances over to the door. It was not like her to not focus entirely on the lesson. 

“Something wrong, professor?” The question came from Adri. 

Leselya straightened her shoulders, shook her head. “It is nothing you should concern yourself with. Besides, I don’t see you working on your spell. Shouldn’t you concentrate on moving the ink pot?”

Adri’s face immediately became harder, her hands clenched into fists. “It’s not as easy as it sounds!” Her glare almost impaled the ink bot that she was supposed to telekinetically move across the table and towards her. 

The student to Adri’s left, a smugly grinning Imperial, held a hand out and promptly the ink pot hovered into his palm. “Not so difficult if you have talent, you mean!”

“I have plenty of talents, you arse!” Adri reached for her inkpot, and before Leselya could react, threw it at her comrade. 

Leselya only just had the time to wave a hand, so the ink pot crashed to the ground, splattering blue liquid over the floor and on her boots. 

“Adri, you will clean this up after the lecture. Get yourself a new ink pot and start over.” 

“He provoked me!”, Adri hissed, stomping past Leselya to do what she had been asked.  

Leselya suppressed a sigh. 

She found herself secretly relieved when the lecture ended, and the apprentices left the room. Normally she enjoyed passing her knowledge on, but today … Irith’s concerns had found their resonance within her, and were nurtured by her own mistrust of Ancano. 

No one had asked for the Thalmor’s presence, or his advice, but he had stayed regardless, had made himself at home at the College and sniffed around whenever something even remotely interesting happened. And with the Eye of Magnus … 

It did not take her long to find him. While she descended down the stairs, she could see Ancano entering the antechamber to the Hall of Elements. The Thalmor cast a glance above his shoulder, before he strode towards the doors and pushed them open.

Leselya climbed down the last few steps, leaned into the antechamber, although without setting foot into it. She’d rather avoid that Ancano noticed her. 

He had approached the Eye of Magnus, and now strode around it in a tight circle, his fingers ghosting across its surface like a lover’s caress. His gaze remained locked with the artefact, fixated on it, as though it was the only thing he could see. 

Leselya frowned. It was suspicious, but many other mages were likewise fascinated with the Eye of Magnus. Irith herself had conducted tests on it, observed it, how it would react. Ancano’s interest in the artefact was worrisome, simply for who he was, but …

Ancano took one step back from the Eye, one hand outstretched towards it still. The Eye suddenly gave off a pulse, a surge of magicka, and its glow intensified. 

The Thalmor smiled.

**

The further they went, the more apparent it became that the Synod mages had not fared half as well as they did. Two slaughtered mages in blue robes lay in a natural cavern behind a break in the wall, where a pair of chauri attacked. They dispatched of them before continuing on, until they once more stepped out into the Dwemer ruins. 

Dwemer spiders were no longer the only constructs awaiting them in the dusky halls. Behind almost every corner they were attacked by spheres, quick and deadly constructs rolling around and dodging Irith’s firebolts. Where the spiders had been a mere annoyance, the spheres were decidedly more dangerous. 

The Dwemer constructs were slowing them down, and Irith could feel a slight throb at her side, where one of the spheres had managed to struck her hard enough to bruise her. She could see to it later: It was more unpleasant than it was painful. 

A upward leading ramp ended at another large door, and a still figure lay at its end. In the first moment, she thought it was another dead Synod mage. But the corpse was almost completely naked, it’s skin a sickly pale, with long pointed ears and a withered face without visible eyes. It held a toothed sword in one of its long, claw like hands. 

A Falmer. 

Irith went closer and kicked the body in the side, but the Falmer didn’t move. Dead, just as she had presumed. But where there was one, there were likely to be more. It was highly unlikely this one had been alone. 

“Be careful. There could be more nearby”, she warned LaCroix, calling upon Oblivion to have a sword materialise in her right. 

“Three of them”, meant LaCroix, her gaze fixed on the door in front of them. “The other side of the door, one at the back of the room, I think, and the other two closer.”

Irith raised an eyebrow and quickly cast a spell. And indeed, three glimmering signatures were revealed to her behind the door ahead. 

LaCroix shrugged, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “It’s the goggles. I thought it’d be a good idea to test if the enchantments are working.” 

Well, that explained why she had replaced her spectacles with this atrocious thing that cut through her face like a slash. At least the enchantment seemed useful. It certainly spared her from recasting the spell over and over again. 

“You take the one to the left, I take care of the other. And try to be quiet. They might be blind, but their hearing is excellent.”

LaCroix looked very much like she wanted to protest, but proved to be smarter, and instead complied. Together, they carefully pushed the door open, and slipped through before the two Falmer were any the wiser. 

Irith wrapped the first in a shroud of magical silence, before she plunged her bound blade deep into his back. The mouth of the creature opened for a scream, but not even a sigh escaped his throat as he dropped down. 

She approached the one ahead with her blade drawn, knocking him against the wall before he could even react, her blade slashing across his chest, cutting him almost in halves. 

It was over before any of the three Falmer could raise their weapons in defence. 

“Search the bodies”, Irith ordered LaCroix, stepping back from the last dead Falmer. “See if any of them have the crystal with them.”

LaCroix looked anything but happy, but she nonetheless complied, a frown of disgust etched into her face. “Nothing. A few arrows, some fungi, but no crystal.”

Irith sighed. Seemingly it was too much to hope something might go smoothly for once. For a moment she wondered if the crystal might not be gone forever, lying buried in some dark corner of the ruins where it was unlikely for them to find it by mere chance. 

“Go ahead. We might just as well put this enchantment to good use.” 

LaCroix’ lips pursed into a thin line for a brief moment, her posture tensed, before she took the lead. A faint glow seemed now to emanate from her palms, betraying a spell at the ready. 

Irith followed LaCroix through more ancient halls and corridors, seemed with pipes and filled with one or the other construct, ready to defend his long gone masters. No enchantment could betray their presence beforehand, but between two mages, they were quickly dispatched off. 

A bigger threat were the Falmer investing this part of the ruin. LaCroix’ warnings, hissed through gritted teeth, were more than once the only thing that bewared from being ambushed out of the shadows. The Falmer defended their home with vigor and crude weapons. 

By the time they reached a great hall, with a flight of stairs leading upwards to a locked door, and a ramp leading deeper into the ruin, they both had their share of scratches and bruises.  

It was only LaCroix’ whispered warning “Falmer ahead!” that saved them from yet another ambush. 

Irith whirled around, only just in time to deflect a lightning bolt with a quickly summoned ward. A Falmer, probably female though it was hard to say, attacked her with a staff, surrounded by an aura of magic. 

Irith held the ward upright, absorbing another spell thrown at her, while she approached, the bound blade materialising in her right. The Falmer shaman blocked with its staff, but the strike still threw it off balance. It scrambled up the stairs, with Irith charging after it. 

Another lightning bolt was swallowed by her ward. Magic crackled along the creatures staff. Irith raised her sword, ready to cut it into halves … She whirled around when an arrow struck her ward, bounced off it. The Falmer stood some steps away on the stairs, another arrow aimed at her. 

Irith dispelled her sword, calling upon her magicka to have fire crackle around her fist. She threw a fireball. The Falmer archer escaped with a jump up the stairs, flying from the heat and the flames he couldn’t see. The impact left the steps scorched and black. 

Another lightning bolt met her ward. She could it feel draining on her magicka, as it slowly eat away on it. Her reserves of magicka were deep, but even they would eventually run too low to cast a spell. 

She whirled around, recalling the blade into her palm. 

It cut right through the Falmer’s staff, threw it off its feet. A quick cut through its throat ended it. 

She leaped across the dead body, blade drawn, while a new arrow bounced off her ward. Just when it flickered and faltered, her magicka depleted, she reached the Falmer archer. Her blade cut down, snapping the bowstring. The Falmer jumped back just in time, tried to hit her with the bow. Irith raised a foot and placed her boot in his groin, throwing him back with a howl. The Falmer flung a fist at her, his knuckles colliding with her temple when her blade cut down. 

Irith almost lost her footing, thrown back a step. The Falmer ahead scrambled up the stairs. She set after him, as soon as she had regained her balance. Her blade impaled him from behind. 

Irith drew a deep breath. She could tell that there was little magicka left in her, not enough to cast any meaningful spell. She could already feel the eery exhaustion tearing at her soul, the hollowness that always came when one’s reserves run low. Her concentration slowly seemed to be slipping. 

She pulled a phial with a potion from her satchel and drank it. Almost immediately, she could feel her magicka replenish. 

LaCroix, meanwhile, had finished the last of the Dwemer off and run up the stairs, with one hand still holding the quarterstaff. 

“There is someone ahead, through that door …” She pointed behind Irith. “And I found this …”

Irith glanced at the thing LaCroix held in her free hand. A large crystal, cut into facettes. 

“Excellent.” Irith frowned. “You said there is someone awaiting us behind this door? How many of them?”

“Just one.” LaCroix’ knit her brow, her bottom lip pulled between her front teeth. “I also think it’s the way to go. Dwemer oculary are always located closer to the surface. They need sunlight or the light of the stars and moons to function.” 

“Stay cautious, then.”

Irith pressed a hand to the door, tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked. 

“There wouldn’t have been a key on any of these corpses?” 

LaCroix’ shook her head. “No. But if we need the key, I’d say we’ll find it in this direction.” She pointed to the ramp behind them, that lead deeper into the ruins. “The Dwemer would’ve kept it nearby … and guarded, to keep those away from the oculory who aren’t meant to be there. The Dwemer used to keep jealous watch over their secrets.” 

“Guarded?” Irith frowned, her lips pursed into a thin line. 

“Constructs, maybe traps”, LaCroix hurried to explain. “The Dwemer wouldn’t have place warding magic, they denied that such a force even exists, thought it’s all just science …”

“It doesn’t matter what they believed. If we are to proceed to the oculory, we need the key.” Irith cut her off, waved over to the ramp. “Lead the way. I believe you would have a better chance finding the key, giving your … expertise.”

LaCroix sighed. She looked very nearly as though she was about to protest, but then turned heel and began descending down the stairs, the crystal she had gathered still held tightly in her fist. Irith followed her, an eye open for the shadows, and any hidden dangers that might dwell within them. 

They descended down the ramp, and into the chambers behind it. No Falmer, not even a Dwemer construct, awaited them here, but Irith called upon her bound blade regardless. She would not be caught by surprise, when LaCroix had warned her of dangers ahead. 

The last chamber wasn’t as deserted. A Dwemer construct, not unlike the fast moving spheres they had encountered before but larger, awaited them in its centre.  

And attacked, as soon as they had entered. 

Irith dodged, just in time to escape a strike that would otherwise have impaled her. Her summoned blade was deflected, and she found herself whirled against the wall. The construct charged …

Irith raised her left, bracing herself with a newly summoned ward …

The chunk of fortified wood on metal had the sphere whirl around, now charging for LaCroix who jumped back, her quarterstaff firmly held in her fists. She blocked, the parade pushing the sphere back. It whirled around its axis, thrown off balance, just long enough for LaCroix to retreat further into the chamber before it charged again. 

Irith pushed herself from the wall, the ward fading as she summoned lightning into her palm. It arched from her fingertips, forked out, struck the sphere that immediately whirled around to charge for her.

But it wobbled, defocused. It impaling strike missed her, and she drove her blade through its spear. It tried to strike her with its remains, but Irith countered with ease, her left palm meeting its metal carcass. 

Lightning sprang from it, encircling the construct. It twitched, spasmed, ached, then fell to the ground, where it remained, unmoving. 

Irith lowered her weapon, but did not dispel it. 

Before she could order LaCroix to search, the young Breton had pried open a casque at the other end of the chamber, and picked a bearded key from it. 

“This is it. It should fit into the lock at the door.”

Irith frowned. “It better should.”

“I don’t think it …”

“We will see”, Irith cut her off. The longer she spent underground in this ruin, surrounded by filthy Falmer and greasy constructs, the more eager she became to leave. Even more when Ancano was still at the College, prying at the Eye of Magnus like a nixhound on a scrib. 

Her patience was slowly wearing thin, and worry’s breath in her neck drove her forward, back up the ramp and to the door that previously had denied them entry. 

LaCroix turned the key in its lock, and to Irith’s relief, it swung open, revealing another corridor behind, and a second door ahead. 

But no sign of the creature LaCroix had warned her from before: The hallway lay empty, deserted, save for the two of them. 

LaCroix, however, reached for her quarterstaff as she approached the door. Whatever she had noticed had to lie behind, still hidden from Irith’s sight, but in wait. She readied a spell in her left, reached for the door … 

It didn’t budge, even when LaCroix tried the key. 

“Be ready. I do not like …”

She was cut off, from a frightened voice behind the door. “G…Gavros? Is that you?”

Irith frowned. Had one of the Synod mages made it that far into the ruin, without being cut down and slaughtered like all the others they had encountered on their way? 

“I’d almost given up hope. Let me get the door …” 

She could hear scraping and rattling from the other side, before the valves swang open, to reveal a frightened looking Imperial in blue robes behind. A Synod mage, likely the one called Paratus, whom Gavros had mentioned in his dying breath. 

“What the …?” Lightning crackled along his raised knuckles, and he backed off, eyes narrowed with suspicion. 

“What are you doing here? What’ve done with Gavros?”, he demanded to know. 

“Nothing.” Irith narrowed her eyes. “We came in search of the Synod, and found your friend Gavros already dying at the door.”

“Damn ... It was the Falmer, was it not? And without Gavros, all our efforts are wasted! He was supposed to return with the crystal. It’s been all for nothing.” Paratus laughed, bitterly. “But congratulations. You’ve found the Synod. Just me, alone, surrounded by angry machines and angrier Falmer.”

“I … excuse me, but …” LaCroix had began rummaging around in her pockets. “I believe we found the crystal. Is it this one here?”

“Oh!” The Synod mage stared at it as though it was the sun itself. “You found it! You found the crystal! I don’t know if you’re aware, or who you are, but you just might have saved this little project!” He furrowed his brow. “In fact, who are you, anyway?” 

“I am a wizard from the College of Winterhold. She is an apprentice, my assistant.” Irith pointed her chin at LaCroix. 

“Savos wouldn’t even grant as an audience when we came to you, but now you come here expecting something from me? I don’t much like this, I’ll tell you. But”, he lowered his hands, quenching the sparks that crackled along them, “you’ve saved my skin, so maybe I could overlook the past for now.” 

He turned around, waving at them. “Come on, I’ll explain on the way.”

Irith shot LaCroix a warning glare before she followed him. The less he knew, the better. And if LaCroix dropped even the slightest hint as to why they were here, she would personally see to it that the apprentice would be punished accordingly. The Synod better not knew what they were keeping inside the College. 

He could not be trusted. 

“No matter what Gavros said, this was my idea first. The Council is going to know that when I get back. I was the one who thought of using this … this Oculory.  I don’t know what the dwarves called it. Something unpronounceable, I’m sure.”

Irith did not miss the scowl that crept across LaCroix’ face at Paratus’ words. 

“From all our research, it seems they were intent on discerning the nature of the divine”, Paratus went on, leading them around a corner and into a dome with a massive structure in its centre. “This machinery, all of it, was designed to collect starlight, and then … I’m not sure. Split it, somehow?”

“Break and focus it”, LaCroix muttered under her breath. 

“It was my idea to replace one of the key elements with our focusing crystal. Months of enchantment went into it.” He stepped onto a spiraling walkway, that went along the side of the massive structure of glass and metal. “Let’s just hope they got it right this time.”

They stepped out onto a round platform, metal and glass like the structure before. Opaque lenses were held within several metal rings, and even more lined the ceiling above them in circular panels. The machinery looked ancient, incredibly complex … and incomplete. Something was amiss from it. 

“Here is it. Magnificent, isn’t it?” Paratus sighed, amazed. “Took an incredible amount of work to get it running again. Now I’m hoping it’ll all be worth it.” 

He turned around. “You there, apprentice? Place the crystal in the central apparatus, and we can start the process of refocusing it.”

LaCroix frowned, but did not protest. 

The crystal clicked into place, and the machinery awoke to live with rattling and humming. Suddenly, beams of lights shot all across the chamber. Unfocused and wild, most of them did barely even touch the lenses before and above the three mages. 

“Now the crystal needs to be focused”, Paratus said. “It was created so far away, we knew that some adjustments would have to be made. Heating and cooling the crystal will cause it to expand or contract, which will change how the light passes through it. You need to do spells to do that. Being from the College, I assume you know them already.”

Irith narrowed her eyes, but bit back the comment on top of her tongue. She would not allow this pimp to throw her off balance with his condescending comments. Especially not if she had more important matters to attend to. 

She - the entire College - needed to find the Staff of Magnus, and if the Dwemer Oculory could help her with it, she would keep her thoughts to herself. For now. For the moment, she still needed the Synod mage’s cooperation.

She turned to the crystal, and a stream of fire and ice from her palms engulfed it, until finally, all the beams were focused. They passed through the crystals, broke through the lenses, to paint onto the wall behind her …

Irith frowned. It looked like a map of Tamriel, fading towards South, while the North - more specifically, Skyrim - was lit up brightly silver. 

“What’s this?” Paratus almost shoved her aside. “These results … They’re not at all what they should be. This projection should be lit up like the night sky … Something is creating an incredible amount of interference. Something in Winterhold, it looks like.” 

He whirled around to Irith. “What are you playing at? Is this some attempt to stall my work? So, what is it? What have you done? Did you know what we were attempting? Are you here to make sure your plan worked, that our efforts have been for nothing?” 

“If I were you, I’d better stay calm.” Irith narrowed her eyes, a warning just at the tip of her tongue. 

“Calm!” He almost screamed. “You and your college have ruined years of my work, I’ve lost colleagues and friends to the Falmer, and you want me to calm down!?” He pointed a finger at her, his breath now ragged and uneven. “How did you do it?”

“I have not the slightest idea what you mean.”

“But it must be something you’re doing. There’s no other explanation ...  You have something at your College, don’t you? Something immensely powerful. Beyond anything I’ve anticipated. What is it?”

“You are out of your mind.”

“You don’t fool me! You have something. Whether this was intentional or not, it suggests some interesting results. You’re looking for something, yes? Well, there’s still something to be learned here. I can’t explain the details. That would give away many secrets the Synod have learned over years.” He walked over to the projection, staring at it, still obviously agitated. “Also, I doubt you’d be a able to comprehend the details. Have you ever seen the Orrery in the Imperial City? It was the inspiration for this idea. Instead of projecting the sky, we project all of Tamriel, and then harness the latent energies to overlay the positions of … What’s important is that all of this work was designed to reveal to us sources of great magical power. Purely to help safeguard the Empire, of course. And yet, in the end, only two locations have been revealed to us. One is your college. The other … well, that can only be Labyrinthian.” 

He whirled around to her, the expression on his face insufferably smug. “So, mage from Winterhold, despite your intentions I’ve beaten your little game. Even if all you’ve said here were lies, I know you have something in Winterhold the Synod Council will be very interested in. So fine, trudge off to Labyrinthian …” He never had the opportunity to finish his sentence.

Instead, his eyes widened in shock and horror, and his mouth opened and closed like that of a fish, while blood bubbled from his lips. Almost without making any sound, he dropped to the floor, sliding from the tip of the bound sword in Irith’s right.

Irith stepped back before he could sully her boots and turned around.

LaCroix stared at her, the eyes behind the goggles wide in horror and disbelief. All colour was drained from her face, the freckles that littered her skin stood stark and dark in contrast. 

“Why? What … he didn’t …”

“Deserve to die?” Irith rolled her eyes. “You’d rather that he went to the Synod to tell them what he discovered here?”

“No, but … Why did you have to …”

“I did what I had to do”, replied Irith coolly. “I protected our College, and its independence. If you are not able to do the necessary thing instead of the pleasant one, you are blind and naive. Do you think we have protected ourselves by remaining passive?”

“You killed him! He couldn’t even … I can’t believe you did this.”

“Would you rather the Synod knew of the Eye of Magnus? It was the only way.” Irith sighed. Useful or not, maybe she should’ve left LaCroix behind. This was not the time nor the place for qualms. “Come now! It is time we leave this place.” 

LaCroix stared at the dead Paratus for a moment longer, before she seemed to find it in her to follow Irith down the spiraling ramp. The whole time, she stayed quiet, a brooding quiet that told Irith that she had not changed her mind and still was horrified by what just happened.

Irith suppressed a sigh. She sincerely hoped, for both their sakes, that LaCroix would not take the next opportunity to report what had happened to any guards. She really would prefer to avoid another confrontation. Sooner or later, even LaCroix with her kindhearted naivety had to learn that sometimes the end justified the means. 

As they approached the end of the hallway, suddenly the air around her seemed to glimmer like on a hot day. The walls, the door, the floor, all suddenly drained of colour and took on an eerie bluish hue. LaCroix stood frozen, her eyes stared empty and unblinking into nothing. 

Irith braced herself. She had an inkling what was about to happen …

_ “You have done well thus far, but trying times are ahead.” _ The Psijic monk took on ethereal shape before her.  _ “It is imperative you return to your College at once. You will be called on to take swift action. Rise to the challenge, and discover what you are capable of. You are on the right path, and you will prevail.”  _

He disappeared, and with him gone, the world around her resumed its normal pace. 

“What was that? I feel … strange.”

Irith whirled around to LaCroix and grabbed her wrist without a word of warning. “We have no time to lose. Hold on and don’t fuss.” 

“What …”

Irith ignored her, and instead, focused her mind to pry open the pathway and follow along the thread. She felt a pull at her navel, then darkness cloaked her, choked her, blinded her and dulled all her senses. 

It was over before she could blink again. 

Snow gnashed underneath her boots. 

They stood in front of the statue of Shalidor, in the middle of the College’s courtyard. Alone. No one was to be seen. No sound could be heart. An eerie silence had befallen the place. 

Irith let go of LaCroix’ fist, and strode to the Hall of Elements without so much as a second look back. The silence did not bode well … 

She pushed the door to the Hall of Elements open - only to stare at a magical ward, much like a cyclone, that shielded the entire hall. In it’s eye, she could vaguely discern the shape of a robed figure, drawing from the Eye of Magnus. Ancano.

Mirabelle Ervine and Arch-Mage Aren stood in the antechamber, arguing. 

“ … don’t know. It’s like a ward, but who’s casting it? Ancano? How?” 

“I don’t care what is it!” Aren sounded angered, and more than a little worried. “I want it down now! I want to know what he’s doing in there!”

“What happened?” 

Aren turned around to Irith, a frown on his brow. “Ancano. He’s in there, doing … something. We don’t know what. When Wizard Nethereth came to us with the warning, he had already started it. We’re trying to get in now.” The Archmage stared over his shoulder. If a gaze alone could have killed … “I will have his head for this, I assure you.” 

“I will try my best to help you to push past the barrier.” 

“Good! We’re throwing everything we can at it.” 

Irith braced herself. She only wished she could be more confident. The Augur wouldn’t have mentioned the eye if it were that easy … 

Stepping back from the barrier, she called fire into her palms. Right and left from her, spells hit the ward with all their force, her fireball as well. For a moment, it seemed as though nothing they did could even as much as scratch it …

Then, the barrier collapsed. 

Savos charged into the room, with Mirabelle and Irith following close behind, spells at the ready. 

“What’s going on!?” Mirabelle Ervine demanded to know.

“Ancano! Stop this at once! I command you!”, barked Savos Aren, furious. 

Ancano didn’t oblige. His gaze remained locked with the Eye, lighting crackling from his palms, a buzzing link that connected Mer and artefact. 

The Arch-Mage approached, a spell already crackling in his palm …

“Don’t go near him!”

Everything went white, a blazing white that blinded Irith and drove burning daggers into her skull.

Then nothing. 


End file.
